


Durarara!! x2.5

by ithefantasticfanatic



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: All VERY different, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Case Fic, Cults, Dark Web, Emotional Manipulation, Eros - Freeform, Full Cast - Freeform, Greek Mythology - Freeform, I have way too much fun writing him, If you can imagine a pairing it will probably happen at some point, Izaya Orihara is a little shit, Kidnapping, M/M, More tags to be added, Multi, Murder, Mystery, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Quite a couple of them actually, Red Rooms, Series Rewrite, Stalking, Taxi Drivers, Yandere, cupid's arrows, deep web
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-09 15:22:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 63,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12279207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ithefantasticfanatic/pseuds/ithefantasticfanatic
Summary: Anri gripped the handle of the sword, the droplets of blood not collected by the cloth beginning to dry and stick and itch. “You promised.”“Well, I promise a lot of things, don’t I? But, I always make due.” The man leaned in, whispering in her ear. “Sacrifice.”Her heart stopped. “Human?”“Oh, my little monster, you think something like Saika would be satisfied with that? For what you want- you’re going to need a god.”--Thieves, revolutions, stalkers and quest to kill a god; a boy with brass knuckles and thief desperate for what only Izaya could provide- he had everything laid out in front of him, a plan to bring Ikebukuro and Valhalla alike to its knees.The love arrows beat him to it.-A Durarara x2 Rewrite. Written like an entirely new season, featuring the full cast, new plots and characters, and just enough humor to distract you from the horror of it all.





	1. Pilot

“Isn’t it adorable how humans conflate the idea of chemical responses for something of cosmic significance, as if they’re anything but just that, chemicals. Everything _is_ chemicals after all; but yet, humans are so adverse to the idea of them. They’ll pay top price for a label saying ‘chemical free’, even if, when it comes down to it, the idea that it’s anything but is simply a lie. Humanity is just the way one response to their signals, after all. Though, I am deeply curious what sorts of chemicals go through your brain, Shizu-Chan. Is there even a brain for them to move through?”

“The answer is _fuck you_.”

“Now-” Izaya felt the weight of the blade press into his palm from underneath his sleeve-“That’s not very nice, is it. But what else should I expect from a _monster?_ ”

Rather predictably, that was when a vending machine flew right at Izaya’s head.

\--

Ikebukoro, from what he’d read, was hell. Actual hell. Seeing as the common definition was ‘a fiery hot place of eternal suffering to pay for your sins’, Japan as a whole fit better than any version of the fairy-in-the-sky they try to sell him.

Yes, as Eliot Swift stepped out of the airport, carrying the backpack with all he was allowed to bring from his place in the States while he stayed with his uncle, seeing the sweeping streets of city that _wanted_ to be New York but just _wasn’t,_ he couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose. Ugh. It even smelled worse here, and that was in comparison to _Brooklyn._

With a sigh, he leaned back against a soda machine, pulling out his phone, switching over to the Russian symbols. Took a minute with all the others saved on his phone. _Where are you?_ No response. Two minutes passed and he groaned, sending another. _Hello?_ Ugh, whatever, he’ll just call. Dialing the number, he sighed in relief when he heard the telltale _click._ “Where are you?”

_"Good things will come to those who wait.”_

So that’s where his mother got it from. “Can you just be clear for once?”

_“Never fry a fish before it is caught, little deer.”_

“Great, they got you calling me that too now. How wonderful. And my fish is a ride- look, if you just give me the address I can call an Uber.”

“ _Youth is wasted on the young_.”

“What does that have to do with an-” And that was when the vending machine he was leaning on was ripped from behind him and he toppled to the ground, looking up at what he could only assume was an actual super villain. Hero? The blondes were usually the heroes, because people were racist shits, but he doubted it flew that way in Japan, not to mention if they were Germa- “Jesus!” He managed to roll to the side just in time to avoid a knife in the throat.

Scrambling to his feet, he shouted into the phone, “I just entered the actual Marvel Universe, call you back,” grabbing his camera from his bag, ducking behind a pillar.

Seriously. What was happening?

The blonde had a freaking guard rail in his hand, launching it a guy in black coat with a fur fringe and the creepiest eyes he’d ever seen. Though they were just a flash, as Creep- and he didn’t even think this was physically possible- vaulted off the rail being thrown his way, landing on a streetlamp. Eliot screamed, ducking behind the pillar again as a flurry of knives flew at the blonde guy, who he happened to be _behind._

Blondie raced up, grabbing a hold of the street lamp and yanking out of the ground with less effort than Eliot does popping a soda can. What was happening?! Creep flipped off the street lamp, landing on the roof of a bus parked nearby when the blonde grabbed a motorcycle-

Oh god, He was going to throw the _motorcycle._

Next thing he knew it was launched into the air flying right at the guy in the coat, who stood and smiled like there was nothing wrong in the world, ducking under with ease. “Your aim’s getting sloppy, Shizu-chan.”

“Don’t call me that!”

No. This wasn’t happening. He zoomed in Blondie, vein bulging in his head as he lifted up the bus, the entire bus, the guy in the coat rushing to try and keep his balance on top, before Blondie spun it like a pizza, round and round until Creep flew off, right into a building where he grabbed onto a railing and flipped himself up onto the balcony. “How sweet, calling my name from the garden below. Shizuo, oh Shizuo, wherefore art thy Shizuo?”

“I’ll kill you, I’m gonna kill you, _kill, kill, kill.”_ He lifted was going to throw the bus. Reality was broken. This guy. Was going to throw a bus.

He kept his camera focused in, breath steady, doing everything he could to keep his hands from shaking. The muscles in Blondie’s biceps tightened, and from how close he was he could pick up the nicks and scratches along his face and arms where Creep’s knives apparently nicked him. His arm was pulled back, ready to fire-

“No fighting. Is bad.”

Reality didn’t exist anymore. He didn’t just see a tank, a tank he’s pretty sure is his uncle- he doubted there were many other Kimono wearing black men around there, this wasn’t Chinatown back home- grab the pillar he was hiding behind and hit the bus out of Blondie’s hands like a baseball, it crashing against the sidewalk, splinters of concrete coating the air.

Well. At least he got a picture of it before he died.

His heart raced as he stepped back, staring up at the mountain in front of him. The guy was _massive._ Sure, Eliot was small, he’d always been no matter how much he hated it. But this guy- Simon, if remembered right from the family photo album- had at least two feet on him, considering he was five foot, probably more, and two hundred pounds of muscle.

“Little deer, there you are! I remember when you were small child.” The hand that pat his head was bigger than his whole face and neck combined. “Though, you still are very small. You need more food. Sushi be good for you.”

“I-”

“Simon, what the hell!” And there went Blondie, storming towards them. Villain. Yeah, he was calling villain because no hero should be allowed to look that murderous. “I had the Flea, he was right there!”

“No killing.” Eliot swore the temperature dropped twenty degrees when he was in Simon’s shadow. But, he was relieved he wasn’t looking down at him anymore. “I will not let Nephew get scarred by fighting.”

“A bit late for that,” he muttered under his breath, then immediately regretted it because shit the guy was looking at him now and it took everything in his power not to cower behind Simon.

“Nephew, huh?” Blondie straightened his glasses, dark blue shades he was rather sure were just for looks, either that or his own doctor hated him for sticking him with the dork ones, before offering a hand. “Isn’t he kinda young to be flying on his own?”

Asshole. “I am _seventeen_ you-” Brain. Stop. Stop. Gritting his teeth, standing straight, he gave a curt, professional shake. “Eliot Swift. And you are…” What did that guy running around call him? Shizu-something. Ugh, honorifics, they always got all jumbled up in his head. Chan meant respect, right? Or was that Kun? San? “Shizu-Chan, right?”

Judging by the way grip on his hand tightened and the murder burning in his eyes, he guessed wrong. He started to pull it back, trying too at least, before the hand he kind of needs to type got ground to powder. “Where did you hear that?”

“That guy was shouting it, now let go, frea-” _Mouth, now is not the time to do the bypass the brain thing,_ because _ow ow ow ow-_

“Do not hurt little deer. He has...problems.” Simon yanked apart their hands with terrifying ease that almost sent him spiraling back towards the ground.

Blondie was also bigger than him, at least a foot. And if he wasn’t a liar, he’d say that didn’t terrify him at all. But he was so- nope, he wasn’t scared. “I do not have problems! I’m just the one person in this family to have a _brain._ ” Ah, how languages rush back to you when you feel the need to yell at someone.

“And you will put it to use! Be best delivery boy.” Oh. Right. That. “Bu-” And the concrete by his head was shattered with a punch and he certainly did not squeak and jump behind Simon, okay, he just got hot and wanted to be in the shadow again.

“My _name_ is Shizuo Heiwajima, try to get it right.”

Which honorific was it again? God, he can quote most of Shakespear in this damned language but he can’t remember the difference between _Kun_ and _San._ “You don’t happen to speak English, do you?” He tried, in English. Judging by the lack of response, he didn’t. “El español?” Also a no. So, there was no getting around it, he was going to have to figure out those title things.

Or he could just avoid using names in any way possible. For the rest of his time here. Which, hopefully, will be very limited. “ _Si-_ I mean, fine,” he switched back to Japanese.

Languages had always been a funny thing for him, they had to be. When you’re Jew(ish)- ethnically, not so much the religion thing- living in New York with a Spanish father, an African-American mother with family in Russia and Japan, both of which she talks to regularly, you tend to get a hold of how to speak the basics real quick. None of them ever quite clicked like English did, mostly because the whole gendering words and honor titles made no sense to him- “It’s a table, exactly _why_ do I need to respect a tables gender?”- but, he managed to get through most conversations. And he was about to get a crash course in Japanese.

“Well…” Blond- Shizuo. Should probably replace his name in his head with that. “You’re with Simon, so I’ll give you _one_ pass, don’t waste it.” He felt his entire body stiffen as Shizuo pat his head. The fact he still had a neck afterward was a pleasant surprise. “And don’t listen to anything the flea says.”

“The...flea? That’s the guy you’re fighting?” Did he seriously wander into some sort of Marvel Parody?

“The parasite sucking the life out of me one breath at a time, yeah, that’s him.” Shizuo pulled out a cigarette from his pocket. “I’m getting back to Tom.”

“Goodbye, Shizuo. No fighting!”

“Yeah, yeah.” As Shizuo walked away, and the weight of the fact he was going to be here for possibly another _four years of his life,_ Eliot was struck with a rather strange realization.

“Wait, why do you speak such broken Japanese, you _live_ here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This is my first fanfiction in about five years, so I hope you all like it! I have lots planned for this series. Feel free to message me if you have any questions, or just want to talk. Have a great day/night!


	2. The Taxi Driver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izaya plants seeds of distrust in the chat room, Mikado is wondering how Masaomi ever dealt with showing him around, and the streets of Ikebukoro gain a new taxi driver- with a lot more property damage.

\--Kanra has Joined the Chat--

 

 **Kanra:** Hey Ho~ Hope ya’ didn’t miss me too much ~~ ** ~~ <3

 **Bakuyara:** Nope. Feel free to go away again and never come back.

 **Mai:** Same! Wow Baki, we both want Kanra die and go away, we’re practically soul mates, aren’t we!

 **Kyo:** ^^^

\--Taro Tanaka has Joined the Chat--

  **Bakuyara:** Why thank you, ladies. Maybe we could get together sometime, plan out Kanra’s painful demise?

 **Mai:** *Swoon*

 **Kanra:** YOU’RE ALL SUPER MEAN! ⋋_⋌ Ganging up on me like that. Well now I’m not gonna tell you the news. (¬_¬)

 **Taro Tanaka:** News?

 **Kanra:** Nope not telling~

 **Taro Tanaka:** I’m sure they didn’t mean it

 **Kanra:** Maybe I'll forgive them if they say sorry. ⚈ ̫ ⚈

 **Bakuyara:** Not happening.

 **Kanra:** Boo, nyah, you're all a bunch of bullies.（￣へ￣）

Speaking of bullies you hear about Mayfield?

 **Taro Tanaka:** Mayfield?

 **Kanra:** Yep! You know, you're my favorite Taro~ <3 Bet you're cute too ˶⚈Ɛ⚈˵

 **Taro Tanaka:** I wouldn't go that far. And what's Mayfield?

 **Kanra:** Oh right! It's this new group that's popping up, bunch of people are saying they're with the Dollars!!

They’ve been attacking anyone who looks like they have money, people in suits, coming out of nice restaurants, a bunch of Raira kids too!!! (◯Δ◯∥)

 **Taro Tanaka:** What? Really? Raira kids too?

 **Kanra:** Mmhmph! On a lady’s honor!

 **Bakuyara:** That doesn’t mean much since you're as far from a lady as you can get.

 **Kanra: Σ(￣ロ￣lll)**  I can ban you from this chat you know :P I am a beautiful, talented, respectable young lady.

 **Mai:** It's true, Kanra does spend more time getting ready than Kyo and I combined.

 **Kanra:** A true lady has class after all~ I couldn't go waltzing around like some beast '

 

“What are you doing?”

Izaya grinned, raising the steaming tea to his lips. “Simply some entertainment.”

Namie groaned, going back to her seat at the computer, scanning over the chat logs. “I’d say they’d go after you, but you look sketchy enough in that coat.”

“Why, I’m almost offended. Are you insinuating my fashion sense is ‘sketchy’?”

“Yes.” 

Spinning once in his chair, Izaya stood, walking to the window, glancing out at all the people skittering about below. Young and old, rich and poor. The last two hadn’t proved too entertaining yet, but with these new ones... “Mayfield is such a lovely name for a color gang, isn’t it? With all these Squares, Scarves and Dollars running around, might be nice to have something a bit more natural. Let humans take over the last frontier of the animal kingdom even in name.”

She shut the computer. “What did you do?”

“Me? Nothing.”

“Oh, like I believe that.” With a long sigh, she pushed back her chair. “Seiji is well dressed you know. If someone decides to rob him, it’ll be your head.”

“And we wouldn’t want that. One in a jar is already enough.”

“...you are sick.” Grabbing her own coat from the hanger, she slid it on. “I’m getting more tea. Call me if you need me. And don’t need me.”

“See you later, Namie.” With that, he slid back into his hair, cracking his knuckles.

_I wonder what happens to a field when you add some fire._

~~O~~

“Welcome class, we have a new student today. Mr. Swift, would you care to introduce yourself?”

A new student? They were already weeks into the school year. Mikado looked up to the new boy with curiosity. What could have happened to make him move? And he certainly didn’t look from around here. He went to look to Anri, when he remembered, right, she told him she was visiting her friend today. It was pretty lonely without her.

“No’s not an answer, is it?” With a long, drawn out groan, the boy stood. Was he really in their grade? He looked like he should be a freshman at most; Anri's height, freckles dusted across his cheeks, large eyes and some cross between a newsie cap and beret on his light brown hair. “I’m Eliot Swift. They let me come here because I can do fancy cartwheels. Don’t feel too bad if I hate you, I hate everything here. Or do. I really couldn’t care less.” He flopped back in the seat, leaning back in the chair.

Strange. Really strange. Well, as class representative, it was probably his job to welcome him, wasn’t it?

Class went by with the usual enthusiasm, and as soon as they were allowed from their seat, Mikado walked over with an easy smile, extending a hand. “Hi, I’m Mikado Ryuugamine, co-class representative.”

“Co?” Eliot gave him a wary look, but stood, returning the handshake. “You guys really need two?”

“We have a boy and girl for every committee.” Pulling back his hand, Mikado adjusted the strap of his bag. “I’ve never heard your accent before, where is it?”

“Brooklyn.” Brooklyn? Where was Brooklyn? Probably somewhere American?]. “Right. You guys don’t know here- it’s in New York.”

“Oh! New York, I’ve always wanted to visit there.”

“It’s better than here,” he heard the other mutter as he gathered his own things, camera dangling from his wrist.

Smiling, he pat his shoulder. “Is it overwhelming? I completely know how you feel- when I first got here, I thought I was going to get run over.”

 "Overwhelming?” The two of them began to walk out together, moving through the crowd. “Please, this place is a joke. Go to Manhattan in rush hour, then tell me _Ikebukuro_ is ‘overwhelming’. It’s more like just insane.”

A small anger flared inside him, that this guy had no business criticizing a city he just arrived in, but, he pushed it down. He wanted to leave too when he first got here. Just had to remind himself of that. “Insane?”

“I saw a guy pick up a _bus_ and throw it. Definition of insanity.”

“Oh! You met Shizuo. Yeah, he can be pretty scary. There are some people around here you probably want to stay away from.” Masaomi gave him the same words. He could probably give the tour better...no. No, he wasn’t gone forever, he was going to come back. When Mikado made a city worth coming back to. Why not start with some practice?

“Like people who throw _busses._ ”

“Yeah, like people who throw busses.” He laughed. “There’s also some gangs around here, you might want to avoid them too. Usually you’re fine as long as you don’t get involved, though.”

“Once again, _Brooklyn._ I know gangs.”

“Right, sorry.” How did Masaomi deal with him when he first got here? “Oh, and there’s one more guy you should probably avoid. His name’s Izaya Orihara, he’s just bad news, all around.”

“Wait, is that the guy with the throwing knives?” Eliot stopped, turning towards him. “Shouting Shizu-Chan? What’s that guy’s problem, he have a death wish?”

“Nobody has any idea. We all try to avoid him.” Mikado smiled again, when he noticed Eliot had his camera out, taking pictures. “You do photography?”

“More interesting than gymnastics, even if the school doesn’t think so.”

“Can I see?”

With a shrug, Eliot handed over the camera and he began scrolling through. There was an up close shot of Shizuo, mid throw, Izaya with his hand on his heart on a balcony above, other arm in the air like he was giving a speech. Some artsy shots of Russia Sushi, images of Ikebukuro lively enough he thought they’d move. “You’re really good.”

“I know that.” He grabbed back the camera. “Look, why are you talking with me, you know th-”

A cold air blew through, followed by a revving on an engine. “Celty!” Without thinking, he grabbed Eliot’s wrist, who set his camera, racing down to the street. The world went dark with shadows, Eliot down on one knee, probably focusing the shot.

It wasn’t Celty. It was a tiny electric Toyota falling from the sky.

\--

 _~Earlier That Afternoon_ ~

 

“Jonathan, you’re _sure_ about this?

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?”

And those were the last words of Jonathan Starkweather before he was behind the wheel of his new and wonderful car, a grin stretched across his face wide enough he was convinced it was going to fall off. The leather was soft and supple under his skin, Megalovania blasting from the radio as he fiddled with the stick shift. _His_ stick shift. He had a stick shift!

It took two weeks of calls and tests to get his registration, even longer to convince (guilt) his uncle to let a little nepotism slide and land him a job. But, now, here he was, behind the wheel in the middle of Tokyo Rush, parked outside Russia Sushi for his first customer as a certified Taxi Driver.

All was calm, relaxed, almost boring. Then, the door flung open. “Drive!”

Yes! Customer! “Where to-” A stack of twenties hit the back of his head as he heard shouting from down the street.

“Yo, anywhere, just book it!”

The engine purred as he pulled back on the stick with a signature _vroom._

Show time.

The car blast into motion, the little electronic Toyota squeezing between the two muscle ones one either side. Too much traffic, ugh, he wanted to go faster….ah!

He slammed on the reverse, the guy in the back was of course cheering and not screaming as he zoomed through an alleyway backwards, using the mirrors as his eyes. He popped out the other side, where there was considerably less traffic, and gunned for it, weaving between the drivers, hitting seventy in a couple of minutes.

“So, where did you need to go again?”

“Ahhhhh!”

“Oh! Ahua Ice Cream? Love that place, my friend goes there all the tim-”

“Ahhhhh!”

“Oh.” He looked back to the road where he managed to skid a large van- was that some anime girl on the side?- in the nick of time. “Right, thanks. And whoops, wrong way.” He spun the wheel, tires screeching as the car swung around, never losing speed as it zoomed back. “Sorry if it takes an extra couple seconds, feel free to deduct it from my pay, I totally understand.”

Sirens began whirring around them, and he cursed under his breath. Short cuts, short cuts. Closing his eyes, he let a map of the city pop in his head- there! There! Okay, that could work. He banked right, racing into another alleyway, backed up to a four story parking garage.

Alright, here’s to hoping binge playing GTA 5 payed off.

“What are you doi- ahhh!”

“I know, this is awesome!” He pressed the pedal all the way down, rocketing towards the ramp. A moment later they were in the air, weightless, a bird twittering past, before the car slammed back down onto the ground, skidding to a stop.

Right in front of Ahua Ice Cream.

He hummed, the next song on his playlist coming on- “And I was like baby, baby, baby _oh_ ”- as he flipped through the bills, taking what the meter said, minus twenty percent for going the wrong way. “Thanks for being my first customer!”

The guy in the back was shaking, the flower on his chest heaving up and down, tugging hard on his green collar, and for a moment Jonathan was afraid he was choking himself.

“You know, why don’t I let this one go, free of charge. Since you’re my first!”

Maybe he was shaking of happiness? The guy ran out, slamming the door behind him. Oh well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Back again. I hope everyone likes the new chapter. Jonathan may be my favorite of the new cast, so I'm looking forward to hearing what you think of him. I hope everyone has a good day/night!


	3. Gods of Flowers

“Hey, Anri!”

Looking up, she fought the red back from her eyes. Oh, it was Mikado. “Hello.” She stepped aside from the Tokyo bustle to let him catch up.

“Everybody missed you yesterday.” He glanced to her from the corner of his eye, her cheeks tinting pink.

“Thank you.”

“How did your trip go?”

-

“ _I need help._ ”

_“Oh? And what makes you think I’d ever want to help a monster like you?”_

_“Because I have something you want._ ”

-

“It was nice.” She smiled up at him. “Did I miss anything?”

“There’s a new boy in our class, he has a gymnastics scholarship.”

“Oh.” She didn’t know if it was good or bad how often they fell into these long stretches of silence, calming, walking in step with the endless Ikebukuro sea.

“Hey Anri, what happened to your knee?”

Looking down, she bit back her wince. There was a long, angry red cut from ankle to knee.

-

_“Well played, Saika. So you think you got me down, what are you going to do with me?”_

-

“I tripped. I can change if it bothers you…”

“Of course not!” Poor Mikado, he always cared too much for people who could never return half of what he gives. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay…”

“Thank you.” Another shy smile, more lie than lip. “I-”

“You two!” A man walked up, towering over, hair dyed green with flowers, and she felt the edge of Saika start to poke from the inside of her palm. “You wouldn’t happen to be Raira brats, would you?”

She felt her hand start to shake, the pain of the sword trying to force through her skin burning. “Y-yes?”

“Good.” Anri whirled around, a woman in a bonnet, yellow sunflowers dusted over the brim, staring down at her behind a pair of tinted glasses. “So I’m sure you have some money to spare for the less fortunate.”

Mikado was at her back, Anri feeling his muscles tense through his uniform. “We don’t have anything on us, really.”

“Like we buy _that,_ ” the man growled. “Rich brats like you always have something.” They both stepped closer, Anri shaking from the strain of keeping Saika inside.

The first swing caught Mikado in the jaw, Anri screaming as the woman shoved a cloth inside her mouth, arms wrenched behind her back. Mikado was kicking, screaming, arms flailing in a flurry, but the man landed another hit to the stomach, making him curl over, arm on his stomach before a hand slammed against the nape of his neck sending him tumbling down.

“Check their pockets,” she ordered.

“Got it, boss.”

Anri was going to have to do it, wasn’t she? Reveal everything, not because of some grand war of good and evil, but to stop some street thugs, lose her friendship, her everything, becau-

 _Neigh._ “Celty!”

The motorcycle skid to a stop in front of them, the two in green looking up, the man screaming. “Black Rider.”

Holding up a hand to him, the woman stepped forward. “Do you claim them?

Claim? What did she mean by claim? Celty looked as confused as her, but nodded, a scythe appearing in her hand. “[They are my friends,]” she typed.

“Your friends or your charges?” The woman's eyes were burning behind the green contacts.

Celty looked down to where Anri hovered over Mikado and mouthed ‘charge’.

“[They’re my charges.]”

“Then, they get a warning.” The woman turned towards the two of them, and Anri moved protectively in front of Mikado. “If we see them in that uniform around here, they won’t be as lucky.”

Celty paused. “[Who are you?]”

“Ashna Flower.” She stepped back, flicking her wrist, showing the crowbar hidden up her sleeve. “Shinto.”

“Yes ma’am.” The man stuck out his tongue, giving a final kick to Mikado before strutting off after her.

“Mikado.” Anri dropped next to him, turning him gently onto his back. His cheek was bruised badly, spots of blood splattered along his nose and neck.

“[I can bring you to Shinra?]” Celty carefully lifted him, to help him back onto his feet

“It’s alright.” He stood on shaky legs, hands wrapping around Anri’s shoulder, who wound an arm around his waist.

“[Are you sure?]” She brushed his cheek.

“I’m sure. Thank you for saving us.”

Anri gave a small bow. “Thank you.” _For letting me lie a little longer._

Celty put a hand on each of their shoulders. “[At least let me give you a ride home. You shouldn’t be walking on that leg.]” Anri’s eyes drifted down to the cut, still a bright, angry red.

-

_She gripped the handle of the sword, droplets of blood not collected by the cloth beginning to dry and stick and itch. “You promised.”_

_“Well, I promise a lot of things, don’t I? But, I always make due.” The man leaned in, whispering in her ear. “Sacrifice.”_

_Her heart stopped. “Human?”_

_“Oh, my little monster, you think something like Saika would be satisfied with that? For what you want- you’re going to need a god.”_

\--

“Thank you, but I need to make a stop. Would you mind taking Mikado?”

With a slump of her shoulders in place of a sigh, Celty solidified her shadows into a helmet around him. _“_ [Stay safe. Promise?] _”_

“I will.” She gave a small bow, as Mikado was hoisted onto the seat.

While he was settling, Celty turned back to her. “[What happened?]”

“I’m okay, I promise."

“[Your eyes aren’t inspiring much confidence.]”

With that, the red disappeared. “Thank you for all of your help.”

“[Just call me if anything goes wrong, okay?]”

“I will.” She took a deep breath. “Promise.”

_Liar._

~~O~~

~ _Meanwhile, in Los Angeles~_

“Like, OMG Katty, you never told me your brother was hot!”

Kasuka was incredibly regretting letting Fiyero borrow his phone.

“Seriously, like how tall is he?” Fiyero scrolled through his pictures, lying upside down on the absurdly pink couch in the lobby of Max Sandshet’s office, red hair brushing the floor as he popped a piece of bubblegum. “He’s got to be six foot, at _least._ And blonde’s totally a good look on him. Okay, like, seriously, this cannot be real.”

“Yes, he is real.” With his usual monotone, he managed to pry the device from his hand, annoyance bubbling inside him. No, he can’t get angry. This is Ruri’s friend. Well, work partner. Who was he kidding, Fiyero was the star of the company no one could dare to offend because he was half of their profit margins.

“You _have_ to let me meet him.” With surprising grace, Fiyero flipped over, his head on Kasuka’s shoulder. “Pretty pretty pretty _please._ ”

No. No on so many levels he couldn’t begin to count them. “He lives in Japan. I am very sorry.”

“ _Boo._ ” With a huff, he stood in a swift movement, glancing in the mirror. “Like, that’s so, like, totally unfair!”

“Perhaps next time you go you can see him.” That was never going to happen if Kasuka had anything to do about it. “You have to finish out your school year, however.”

“I know, so boring.” Stretching, Fiyero did a spin, his scarf fluttering around him, green coat fluttering out with the painfully bright red shirt underneath. It still almost hurt Kasuka to look at him, the amount of color he always had. Even if they were limited in number- generally red, green and gold- they were always painfully present when everyone he ever knew mostly stuck to blacks and pastels. “I mean, like, I totally dropped out _ages_ ago, they shouldn’t make me go back!”

“It is sad.” It was his saving grace. It meant Fiyero would be at least a little busy over the next...oh no. He got that smile. That ‘I have an idea which shouldn’t be classified as an idea because it is so bad’ smile.

“You know...my therapist _is_ saying I need a vacation from the limelight.” Kasuka shivered when Fiyero ran his nail along his jaw.

“Thanks, sweetheart. You’re the best.” A kiss on the cheek, and Fiyero was running out the room with a shout of, " _Maria!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I know this is a bit shorter than the last, but that's just to help organize it chronologically. Fiyero is a...fun one. Promise that. And honestly writing Anri has helped me gain so much more of an appreciation of her character. I am really proud of where her storyline takes her. 
> 
> Have a great day/night! And don't forget to comment what you think :)


	4. Brass Beginnings

 

“So you like kicking around little ones, huh.”  _ Crack.  _ “Welcome to the big boys’ show.”

The man on the ground, Hiroshi if he remembered right from the announcer, red imprinted on his cheek from the hit, growled. “Yo, you think you can mess with a Dollar?” 

“I think I could kill you if I wanted to. But that goes against the spirit of the competition, doesn’t it?” Twisting his hands, Jason shifted the brass knuckles on his fingers. “I’ll be nice. I don’t believe in an unfair fight, so-” He tossed him a crowbar- “have at it.”

The look in Hiroshi’s eyes when he blocked the hit with the metal between his fingers was worth anything.

He could see the glare reflect off a strange streak of bald in the man’s hair, like someone had shaved it off with a knife. There were rumors saying it was when he went head to head with some guy named Orihara, but, Jason really didn’t give a shit. He was here to fight.

The place was damp, dingy, lights hanging by a thread. A crowd was gathered around them, people drenched in dirt and blood from the rounds before. Rules were simple in this ‘game’. Whoever didn’t quit first, won.

Jason never lost.

Hiroshi came at him again, Jason raising his hand, the hook of the bar catching in the dip of his brass knuckles as his other slammed into his stomach.

“ _ Fuck _ you.” Hiroshi fell back, curling on his stomach, before swinging at Jason’s head, who ducked under, landing a harder hit to the jaw.  _ Crunch.  _ He felt the bone bend under his hit, snapping, before Hiroshi toppled over, forehead cracking against the ground, blood slicking the black mats.

“ _ Brass, Brass, Brass!”  _ The crowd kept on, as Hiroshi was dragged out of the field, replaced by some new boy, wielding a handheld ax. Amateur. You may be allowed to bring whatever you wanted to these fights, but, no one who knew what they were doing brought a blade.

“Kanazawa enters the ring!” The crowd went quiet a moment, as the boy resettled the handle in his hand. 

Jason lowered his arm. “Come on. Newbie gets the first hit.”

The swish passed right by his ear as his fist connected right over his heart. Down for the count. It was getting almost boring, as Jason kicked the ax to the side. “Come on, anyone else? I don’t have all day.” He did have all day. He had probably for the rest of his life.

Just as they were raising another onto the stage, the crowd went quiet at the sound of police sirens. “Scram!” 

“Shit, shit, shit,” Jason jumped off the platform, grabbed his manager’s hand, who let out a small groan of annoyance, racing up the stairs and out to a fire escape. 

“Why are you freaking out?”

“Because my dad is going to actually  _ kill  _ me if I get caught again.”

Within a few minutes, they were on the roof of the building two down from the warehouse. He could see police swarming inside in mass, dragging out boys with baseball bats, girls with nails sharpened into claws. Sitting on the edge of the building, feet dangling over, Jason looked down at them. 

“If you’re so worried about being caught, street fighting’s probably not the right career for you.” Niko sat next to him, sliding his bag with his cut, black hair stuck to his forehead from the sweat.

“Something you could have told me before they started calling me  _ Brass. _ ” Reaching into his bag, he grabbed a beer, tossing a second to his partner in crime. Well, if by partner he means parasyte who takes fifty percent of his cut because he booked his gigs since he’d arrived in Japan a month ago. Crime still fits though. This was illegal on  _ so  _ many levels. 

Niko cracked it open, white mist fading into the air around. “I’ve got another job for you, this one a little less showy.”

“Too bad, you see the way they were looking at me? Probably could have had my pick of ‘em to take home if they hadn’t come along.” Ugh, the police always ruined it. “Maybe someone put up a Youtube.”

“And?”

“You know…”

“He’s not going to see it, Brass. And if he did, he’s a  _ celebrity.  _ In another country. You think he’s going to give a shit?”

“I dunno, I did look pretty hot.” With a laugh, he took another sip. “Or maybe he’ll need a bodyguard.”

“I’m pretty sure those have background checks.” Standing, Niko dusted off the dust from the black skinny jeans Jason was sure he would wear into the apocalypse. “Seriously, you’re fine, it’s barely noon.”

“ _ Fine,  _ bossy, bossy.” Jason stood as well, carding a hand through his wheat-blonde hair. Usually it’d be dyed- he was considering green lately- but apparently, the school he’s starting now had something against it. Though, he’d seen some kid waltzing around with blue hair so maybe it was more like something against him. “Where to?”

Twenty minutes later there were ten guys passed out with broken jaws by the East Gate. 

“That was easy.” He wiped the knuckles on the inside of his leather jacket. “How much’re we getting paid for this?”

Niko pulled out a calculator, starting to tally, when Jason felt the hair on the back of his neck begin to rise from the clapping behind him.

“Wow! Well done. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it for myself.” Jason turned, where there was a...man or boy? Which would he use- oh he was going with boy for now- sitting atop a dumpster, black coat with a white fur trim seemingly swallowing him whole. “The great Brass, up and coming toughest man in Ikebukuro.” 

Oh no he did not. Jason growled under his breath, storming over. “What do you mean  _ up and coming? _ ”

“I don’t think you’re quite there yet.” Something about that smile sank into Jason’s gut and weighed him down like he swallowed a dumbbell. “Even if Shizu-Chan hardly counts as man, you’ve still got Simon to deal with. I’d pull myself into the running, but, technically, I’m afraid I belong to Shinjuku.”

“And who exactly  _ are  _ you?” He slammed his fist into the side of the can, indent working its way into the metal, Niko wincing in the background, muttering ‘great now we’ll have to take him to the doctor’.

The man crossed his legs at the knee. “Oh, you don’t know me? How wonderful. Allow me to introduce myself.” The way he moved could only be described as flouncing, maybe floating. Though, neither of those seemed to fit the somehow sinister way it all functioned, as he landed on his toes. “I’m Izaya Orihara. I hired you.”

Niko tensed, pushing Jason to the side. “I’m sorry about him, sir. He’s a bit aggressive.”

The fact Jason then proceeded to growl certainly did not prove his point.  “So you cut off that guy’s hair in the fight?”

With a long, rolling bow, he looked up through his lashes. “Like an attack dog, how quaint. Well, here’s your treat.” A suitcase found itself at Jason’s feet, and Jason couldn't even begin to guess where Izaya had hidden it before, or how he moved so fast his eyes couldn’t track it. “I’m afraid I’ll have to be going now.”

“Wait!” Jason tried to reach out to grab the man’s arm, but he swore, he moved like he was made of water, slippery, every little motion creating a ripple through his whole body. “Why did you have me beat up these guys?”

“Getting sentimental are we?” Izaya stood at the break between the buildings on either side. “Let’s just call it a trial run and leave it at that.” He grinned. And Jason has never wanted to punch someone’s teeth out more just to make it stop. “Pleasure doing buisness with you.”

All the business Jason wanted was a celebrity boyfriend a beer. He had a feeling that wasn’t going to happen.

 

~~O~~

 

Maria said no. But Maria also thought Fiyero was in France so, it’s not like it mattered.

He wasn’t the biggest deal in Japan. Of course he was still famous, he was  _ everywhere,  _ duh, it was just, like, who he was, but, he wasn’t enough that with a pair of sunglasses, new jacket and a change of last name, he he’d get spotted. And if he ends up getting caught? Enough publicity for the next  _ forever.  _

Handing off bag to one of his attendants, tipping down the glasses to look over his new home for the next eh, whenever he felt like, he decided this was totally the right choice. 

The woman at the bottom offered a hand, and Fiyero took it, being helped off the steps of his private jet.  

The air was more humid than it was in LA, where the heat was always stifling and dry. Better than San Francisco at least. When he went there for a visit in June he nearly froze to death. Totally not cool.

It was like everything was plucked from one of the ‘animes’ he’d watched in the preparation for the trip, where he learned all his Japanese. Sure, he knew bits and pieces of it before, most who lives near San Francisco did, but now he was, like, basically fluent. Such a _Kawaii_ language. Plus they put him into the foreigner section of the building with the other English Speakers.

Now all that was left was to visit his new apartment.

He’d signed up with some school called Richi, or Rara, or Raira- something like that. The uniforms looked cute, if a little dull. But, what really sold him was the on campus living opportunities. What better way to try to blend in with everyone else than to live among them? It would be like, science!

Soon enough, he was dropped off in front of the drab grey building and felt the excitement drain right from him.

“Where’s the doorman?” He heard snickers as suitcases were pushed into his arms. Note to self, they were all  _ so  _ getting fired. 

His attendants drove off, and he was there alone, nose scrunched, as he tried to drag up one of the bags. It wouldn’t budge. With a huff, he sat on top of one, grabbing his phone. Maybe he should just go home...

“Hey, are you alright?”

Finally! Looking up, he saw a boy in the uniform he was going to be wearing by tomorrow, six inches taller than him, around six one. Blonde hair and bright blue eyes.

Oh yeah. He’s not leaving. Fluttering his eyes up at him, he bit his lip with a slight tilt of the head, speaking in English. “Yeah, like, my parents left me here all alone, totes not fair, I can’t bring any of this up.”

“You need help?” Aww, that dazed and confused look was so adorable. 

With a giggle, he hopped to his feet, pecking the other’s cheek. “Well aren’t you the sweetest. Thanks, doll.” He pushed the heaviest bags into his hands. “So, got a handsome name to match the features?”

The shade of red the other turned suited him. “J-Jonathan Starkweather.”

“Jonathan?” Sliding on one of the lighter bags, he held open the door for him. “I like it. Sounds...royal. Like a name from a fairytale, my own personal prince charming.”

He really was a handsome thing, all defined muscles with soft eyes and smile. “You’re Fiyero Deamorte, aren’t you? I can’t believe I’m meeting Fiyero Deamorte.”

Oh. That might pose a problem. Whirling around, he put a finger to Jonathan’s lips. “You’re a sharp one, aren’t you? Handsome, smart, kind, truly the full package.” He tapped the lips. “I can ask a favor of you though, can I? Pretty pretty please?”

Jonathan nodded. 

“Good boy.” Fiyero pat his cheek. “I’m not really, like, supposed to be here, my agent thinks I’m going to school in some private little place in France. Everything’s really hush hush.”

Another nod.

“So you promise to keep my little secret, love?” He went to his toes, so they were inches apart.

Jonathan gulped, and the smile was back on his face, followed by a salute. “‘Course not. You have my word, Mr. Deamorte.”

“Call me Fi, sweetheart.” It would be nice having a boy on call. Gods know he’s not carrying anything up those stairs  _ himself.  _ “Do you live here?”

“I don’t actually, I’m just here to visit my brother. He’s a really cool guy, always said he wanted to meet you.”

With a hum, Fiyero put his key into the lock, room seven sixty six. “Maybe I’ll have to say hi sometime. Today’s a bit busy I’m afraid, have to meet the roommate and all that. Want to get everything set up as a surprise.”

“Do you want any help?”

It was so nice to have a boy on call. 

\--

Eliot was having an alright day. At least as days in Ikebukuro went. Would he prefer to be back in New York, where he knew every alleyway, every shop, every lock and how to pick it? Yes. But, like he thought earlier, Ikebukuro really was a tamer New York; hell, it even had its own Little Italy.

He liked his apartment too, if for no other reason than it was the first one in his life he hadn’t had to share with three older brothers. It was neat, almost sterile, scrubbed to a shine, walls blank, bed made, desk clear, everything in perfect order. At least, that was how he left it. 

Around three O’ clock, Eliot’s day went downhill very. Very fast. 

“What did you do to my room!” He slammed the door behind him, dropping his groceries to the floor.

The walls now had some sort of plush red paper on them, there was a second bed, this one decked in cherry and gold, a small chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It  _ hurt  _ to look, mirrors covering almost everything, his old, trusted closet, having every single flat surface reflective, his clothes all piled on the bed in complete disarray.

And in the center of it were two boys sitting on the gold and red bed, a home decorating guide between them.

“Oh! So you’re my new roomie.” The boy hopped u- 

Oh god. No. No he recognized that face, that voice, that haunted him on television every waking moment of the day, the subject MTV goes to when the Kardashians were too classy. “Get out.”

“Wha-” 

“Get.” Eliot grabbed Fiyero’s arm, trying to drag him away. “Out. Of my. Room!”

“Uh,  _ excuse me,  _ I happen to live here too! Stop being, like, totally rude!”

This was not happening. This was  _ not  _ happening. 

The other guy, stupidly tall, and judging by that smile just plain stupid- okay maybe he was actually really attractive but he was too pissed off at the moment to care about that- stood up. “Hey, whoa, no need for a fight, he was just transferred here.”

“I am  _ not  _ letting  _ Fiyero Deamorte  _ stay in my room! He’s going to drag the paparazzi here, and I am not okay with someone fucking on my bed.”

“I have my own!”

“Yeah, well, feel free to move it-” he slammed shut the door when Fiyero was on the other side. “Somewhere else.”

A few moments passed, Eliot turning to the other guy in the room, ignoring the whines from outside. “You too.  _ Out. _ ”

“Are you Eliot Swift?” Jonathan blinked down at him.

“...and who are you?”

“I’m Jonathan Starkweather!” Before Eliot could try and push him out too, Jonathan started shaking his hand. “I’ve heard of you, you work down at Russia Sushi right?”

So that’s what he was going to be known for. “Yes. Now get out.”

“Alright, but...just...this is Fiyero’s room too, and I really don’t like bullying-”

“And I don’t like sleeping in a room that looks like a crime scene!”

Jonathan paused, looking around. “I guess it is a lot of red…”

“Yeah.”

With a sigh, Jonathan glanced to the door, where Fiyero was still banging. “What if you split the room in half? Use duct tape and everything.”

“That’s...not…” Eliot groaned. “Fine, but he’s not allowed back in until my side is stripped clean. And I’m calling up the school, because I am pretty sure I said I  _ didn’t  _ want a roommate.”

~~O~~

 

For as long as Anri could remember, she had been watching life from the camera. Outside view, only seeing herself through an out of focus lens. She was never there- not really. She couldn’t be. She couldn’t, because if she was, it would put everyone around her in danger. 

She never  _ had  _ to put herself in the active line of duty. Even the few times she’d pulled her sword, in direct defense of herself, of a loved one, it was through a sort of third-person perspective. Saika did the motions, swings and dodges, all Anri did was let her power flow through, watching silently in the background chatter of her head.

She never was a schemer, never was an activist. No matter how strongly she felt, she never voiced it. Manipulation was the game of the Izayas in the world, intimidation the Shizuos. Never before had she had to make a move, take her hand and look over for the best play. But now she would. Because no one was going to play this hand for her.

No one she wanted to, anyway.

This was it. For the first time in her life, she was going to have to be proactive. She was going to have to hunt, to stalk and lie and cheat, maybe even kill, personally. Not as a reaction. It wasn’t going to be Saika’s victim in the end- this one would be  _ hers.  _ And if she can’t live with it...well. Then the weight of that sat solely on her. 

“Thank you my children.” She gave a bow, the two older women giving one back, as her eyes faded from the red. 

_ You think something like Saika would be satisfied with that? _

The words were on loop in her head, a demented chorus echoing, what she was going to have to do. Not that he ever told her  _ how.  _ No, that would have been too easy. Or maybe even the infallible had their limits, and finding her a god to kill went beyond even his. 

There was still the chilling question. The one in the air, that she didn’t even want to entertain.  _ Is Celty a god? _

Objectively- no. Well, maybe? Depending on the definition? What even defined a  _ god,  _ in a world of Dullahans and psychic swords? What was real, what was fake, did all the Greeks exist, the Chinese, the ancient Japanese? Was she going to have to march her way into the Shinigami realm to save her friend? She would do it, if she had to. If she knew a way to ever start.

Well. She did know a way to  _ start.  _ A way that was going to hurt her to the core, that if she did there was no going back from.

_ [Celty?]  _ She sent the text, sitting on the park bench, eyes locked on the little clock at the top. One minute, two, three, ten, twenty-

_ [Sorry! Out on a job. You’re not in trouble, right?] _

_ [Of course not! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you like that.]  _ In that moment, Anri knew that if hell existed, she was going to it. [ _ I was hoping maybe we could talk? I have a lot of my mind and you’re the only one I can go to.] _

_ [Of course! Where are you?] _

Last chance to back out. [ _ Raira Park.] _

She waited. Heart heavy, eyes burning she waited. Soon enough, the black bike came into view, pulling to a stop. “[What’s wrong?]”

“I think one of my friends is trying to kill herself.”

“[What?!]” Celty typed, frantic, sitting down. “[Why do you think that?]”

Her head bowed, hair fanning across her eyes. “She’s been acting...different.”

“[How so?]”

“More aggressive, angry, she yells at the slightest thing,” she whispered. “Afraid of everything, asking if anyone would miss her if she disappeared. She sits on the roof, hangs her legs over, looking down. I heard her say ‘soon’, once.”

Celty shook her helmet. “[That’s awful.]”

“I don’t know what to do.” She dug her nails into her palm, aching for the distraction, of Saika trying to break through her skin.

“[Death is never the answer.]” Celty stood, looking down to her. “[You have to make her see that.]” 

“I don’t know how…” Bringing her knees to her chest, she closed her eyes, aching to blame what she was about to do on the burn behind them. “Do you ever worry?”

_ “[About?]”  _

“Death.” Breathe, breathe. “What would happen if you died?”

A pause. “[I never really thought of it before.]”

“You never have to, right? Since you can’t die.” 

She felt of Celty’s smoke descend on her, felt herself breathing it in, into her heart and lungs. “[To be honest, I don’t know. Things like that are all in my head.]”

“Which is gone…” She looked up. “Celty, how do you define god?”

“[Anri. What is this about, really?]” Celty stepped closer. “[All this talk about god and death- is this friend...you?]”

Of course she messed this up. She wasn’t Izaya, she couldn’t get people to plot out their own end, only hers. So there was only way out of this. “I’m sorry.”  _ Liar, liar, liar!  _

Next thing she knew, Celty was kneeling in front of her, their hands intertwined. “[Why don’t you come over tonight? Shinra’s making crab.]”

“I don’t want to impose…” Shinra’s computer was there. Shinra who’d taken Celty apart, knew her weaknesses from the inside out, better than she knew her own. 

“[It’s no problem, we’d love having you.]”

“Thank you.” Celty offered her hand, Anri taking it, helmet forming around her head. “Can I ask one last thing?”

“[Of course,]” she typed, getting on the bike, Anri settling behind her. 

“Do you get lonely? Being the only one like you.”

“[I…]” Celty leaned back. “[Sometimes. But then I remember I’m not alone. I have you, Shinra, Mikado, Shizuo…]”

“But what about like you?” She moved her arms around Celty’s waist. “We’re not going to live forever, like you.”

She felt Celty tense. “[I don’t know.]” Shooter’s engine revved “[But we don’t have to worry about that for a very long time, right?]”

“Right.”

Wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter up! My favorite Anri moment so far. Hope the mood whiplash didn't hit you too hard ;) Also, this chapter is the reason I love Fiyero so much too. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed it. Don't forget to comment what you thought. Have a wonderful day/night!


	5. Aloha Shinjuku

“This is stupid, so stupid-”

“Stupid pays your bills, little deer.”

And so, Eliot found himself shuffling like a schmuck down the streets of Shinjuku with an unholy large bag of fatty tuna. Not helped by the fact, and he can admit his faults, his sense of direction was  _ shit.  _ Always had been. He’d gotten lost in their own apartment when they first moved in, and there were only three stamp-size rooms. 

“ _ Turn right on 7th and park. _ ” As if Siri hadn’t told him to do that  _ six times already.  _

After another twelve tries, switching from Siri to Google Maps, Google Maps to Ways, Ways back to Google Maps, to calling for directions, back to Siri, he finally found himself in front of a glass building. It seemed the fancy type; not enough for a doorman, but enough that he felt extremely uncomfortable going inside.

It was also kind of strange that for such a nice place, there were dented metal street barriers strewn around. Whatever, he wasn’t being paid enough to question it.

Shivering from the blast of cold air, Eliot tugged the tan jacket tighter around himself, stomping to the front desk. “Delivery for Orihara.”

“Name.” The woman at the counter didn’t bother looking up. 

“Russia Sushi deliv-”

“ _ Name.” _

What? Since when did delivery boys have to give their names? Was it a Japanese thing? “Eliot Swift.”

She looked down to her paper, flipping through the pages, before pressing a button to let him through. 

...yeah, he was getting a bad feeling about this.

He kept one hand in his messenger bag, wrapped around the nylon rope inside as he made his way into the elevator, music tinging away as the doors slid shut. When they opened again he was flooded with light, hissing, covering his eyes. Jesus. This was the coolest apartment he’d ever seen. One wall was entirely windows, backlighting the mahogany desk, furniture creating a silhouette effect. A staircase to his left led to a second floor, puffy couches formed what Eliot assumed to be the living room, where a woman was sitting with a computer, long brown hair trailing to mid back, green sweater pulled up high around her neck.

His grip on the nylon grew tighter. “You Orihara?” He didn’t leave the elevator. Everything in him was screaming danger. 

“I’d rather die.” Standing, the woman shut her laptop. “I’ll get him.”

“I can just give you the-” Damn it, she was gone.

Hesitantly, he stepped out, eyes trailing around the harsh lines of the walls and railings, making his way over to the windows. Everybody looked so small down there, but he could still see them all, bustling about, somewhere to be, something to do, thinking their lives actually mattered at all. It was almost funny. If it wasn’t pathetic that he was one of them.

“You like it here?” 

The hair on the back of his neck rose, as he whipped around, finding himself face to face- okay, more like face to chest thanks to the height difference- with Creep from the first day. “Delivery.” He shoved the box into the other’s hand, not letting his hand leave his bag. “Now pay up.”

“Of course.” Creep- well, Orihara apparently- brushed past him, coat fluttering in the wake, sliding into his chair, pulling a wallet from the drawer, rustling for a check. 

Looking down, he noticed the spread of papers of his desk, doing a quick read over.  _ Jonathan Starkweather?   _ Wait. What? Sliding closer to the desk, he read through the names. Most of them he didn’t recognize, but Mikado was on there, that Anri girl he told him about. Fiyero was on there too, nestled in between someone named  _ Jason Starkweather  _ and a boy named _Hisashi Fumihito_. 

“You’re not snooping now, are you?” Oops. 

“Like I care enough to.” He stepped back, eyes locking on the other’s. For the first time in his life, he wanted to look away. He’d looked people twice his weight and height combined in the eye without a hesitation. And despite the difference in height- Izaya wasn’t particularly built, he couldn’t find a muscle on him- he just...he was more terrifying than any Shizuo he’d ever seen.

_ And it wasn’t fair.  _

He felt his fists clench, against his will. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that  _ Orihara  _ could be small and thin and pretty and still this terrifying, it wasn’t fair that he, born into his family, was the runt of th-

“I insist.” Orihara pressed the papers into his hand. “Give it a look.”

“...” This wasn’t going to end well. Something about this was off-  _ everything  _ about this was off, red alarms blaring in his head, _danger, danger_. “These are all Raira kids.” He flipped through the pages. “They all go to the school. Most of them are in the apartment program, except Mikado. Wait, Jonathan doesn’t either, he dropped out.”

“Oh, did he?” Orihara folded his hands under his chin, elbows on the table, those red eyes a glowing alarm to why he should just take the money and run. “Tell me, what else do you see? Please, sit.” 

With narrowed eyes, Eliot found himself, almost in a daze, taking a seat on the plush couch, looking through another file, as the woman from earlier sorted through the books overhead. Orihara called to her, and a moment later another file was tossed down, placed on the table in front of him.

“Addresses.” Eliot grabbed the second file, laying them side by side. “These are apartment numbers, and Fiyero matches, so they’re probably correspondent.” Why was he even doing this? “Why are some highlighted?”

“Because they’re going to die soon.” 

“ _ What?”  _ Nope. He’s tapping out. This just turned from creepy to cult too fast. He stood, eyes narrowed in on Izaya. “Who are you? What  _ is  _ this, all of this!” He found himself slipping into English. “What is going on!”

“Did I forget to introduce myself? How rude of me.” Orihara stood as well, giving a bow, the coat flaring out like dragons smoke. “I’m Izaya Orihara, an information broker.”

“Information broker?” He repeated, slowly. “You steal people’s secrets and sell them for a profit.”

“Wow! You are good at that, summarizing. Ever considered being an author? Sounds almost, what’s the word, Shakespearean?”

Shakespearean  _ Shakespearean.  _ Fuck.“...What do you know about me?” Hair began to prickle on the back of his neck. “Why is everyone who I live with on that list? How do you- why are those people going to die?”

“I know you’re due for some good luck.” Eliot blinked, and a wallet was pinned to his jacket by a small throwing knife, stuffed with much more money than the tuna cost. “Maybe it’s time for your  _ karma  _ to turn around.”

That was the moment Eliot Swift knew Izaya Orihara was going to be a problem. A problem he desperately wanted to be.

\--  
  


_ “Cars shouldn’t fly, Jonathan!” _

_ “Yeah...maybe I should try being a pilot instead?” _

_ The entire office shouted, “No!” before he could get another word. _

So Jonathan was, for the moment, banished to Shinjuku, where his uncle said people were less likely to recognize him. Not that he blamed his uncle. He went the  _ wrong way.  _ How could he do something like that? It must have made the guy at least twenty seconds late!

Oh well. He was well on his way to redeeming himself. In Shinjuku he’d gotten himself another six customers, each arriving just in time. Sure, a lot of them seemed to be in real rushes, tried to pay him way too much, and for some reason seemed generally scared of him, but, he was blonde and six one in a city Shizuo Heiwajima lived. Makes sense some people might be a little nervous about him.

As he was getting ready to head in for the day, he passed by a tall glass building, metal barriers dented with handholds tossed along the sidewalk and ground. Huh. People really needed to be more careful when driving. Then he saw a familiar face storming out and pulled right up, sideways between two cars, rolling down the window. “Hey, Eliot! What are you doing on this side of town?”

Weird, Eliot seemed upset. Tense at least. His feet were stomping, teeth set, though, considering the guy looked like a baby deer and about the same size as one, it was more cute than anything else. “Fuck off.”

“Come on, I’ll give you a ride! Free of charge.”

Eliot glanced back to the building, Jonathan seeing his eyes trailing up to the top floor, where he saw a guy with black hair grinning down at them. Oh! It was that guy always fighting with Shizuo. 

“Fine.” The door slammed behind Eliot when he stepped into the back, arms crossed. “Just drop me off at my apartment.”

“I thought Fiyero had it until six?” He revved the engine.

“Well, he can go suck dick somewhere else, I want to go home.”

“Come on, don’t be mean, I’m sure he’s just doing schoolwork.” He went a bit slower than usual, since he was pretty sure if Eliot brushed the door when he stopped too fast he’d break a few bones. 

Eliot huffed, leaning his head on the window. “He doesn’t start ‘til Monday.”

“Oh! That sounds fun! What year is he?”

“Senior.” Jonathan let the car go silent, until Eliot spoke again. “Hey, do you have a brother?”

“Yeah! Jason, he moved here from LA a couple weeks ago. I was visiting him when I met you. How did you know?”

“Saw his name on the school registry.” 

Wow, no curse words, insults, or squeaks. He really must be upset. “Hey, how about I get us some ice cream?”

“I don’t want any ice cream.”

“Come on.” Jonathan turned, at the slowest speed he thinks he’s ever gone. “It’ll be my treat.”

“You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”

“Not really.”

A little while later, they were in front of Ahua ice cream, Jonathan opening the door to help Eliot out, who slapped his hand away. “I’m not an invalid.”

“I didn’t say you were.”  _ You’re just really tiny and fragile and it’s really cute.  _

Straightening his coat, Eliot huffed, brushing past him, as they started to walk up to the shop.

That was when a stop sign came whipping right at their heads.

Eliot screamed, Jonathan throwing himself on top, knocking them both to the ground. Shizuo was above them, panting, covered in lipstick marks along his neck and chest, facing away from them where a crowd was forming. 

Nope, not going to happen. Eliot was shouting something, but Jonathan’s hearing formed a tunnel, as he tossed him over his shoulder, kicking and screaming, throwing him into the car and locking it from the outside, taking a deep breath. It was a short walk to get inside the ice cream building. And he  _ promised.  _

Jonathan ran. Managing to duck under one of Shizuo’s sweeps of the sign that he’d aimed at a man coming at him with a ring, hopping into the shop.

A few minutes later, he was skipping outside and…

Shizuo had his car. In the air. Yeah, Eliot was banging on the window, but that wasn’t as important as the fact his  _ car  _ was in the  _ air. _

No one got to fly his car but him.

“Hey!” Before he even knew what he was doing, Jonathan threw the ice cream right at the man’s face. “Not my car!”

If Jason was there, Jonathan was pretty sure he’d be laughing. He watched the ice cream drip from his cheek, flopping onto the shoulder of the blue vest. Considering it was vanilla, it looked an awful lot like bird poop.

“My brother gave me this.” The voice came out in a low growl, as the car was dropped. “Do you know what I do to people who ruin my brother’s things?”

Jonathan really didn’t want to find out. Sometimes, at times like this, he wished he was Jason. Sure, he was the same height as this guy, but fighting belonged to his brother. But he kept his fists up, shaking. “You touched my car. Y-you’re going to have to pay.”

“Alright.” Jonathan gulped as he watched Shizuo rip a streetlight from the ground. “But not before I teach you wha-”

That, was when his car,  _ his  _ car, had its first pedestrian hit. 

Shizuo crumpled under it, and Jonathan had no clue what was going on, except he felt something like a claw around his ankle, yanking him into the passenger's side of his car. 

“Drive!” Eliot dove into the back, as Jonathan raced into the driver’s seat. Shizuo was starting to rise, blood trickled on his face, screaming “Izaya,” as Jonathan floored it forward, right into him again, but this time he kept going straight. Blue and red wires sparked by his feet- he wasn’t going to question that Eliot knew how to hotwire a car, none of his business- as he raced through an alleyway, seeing Shizuo run after him in the rearview mirror.

“Hold on!” Sorry uncle. They were going flying again. He did a three-sixty turn, rushing right at Shizuo, who ducked out of the way just in time to watch Jonathan race onto the ramp onto the highway at one ten MPH, flying over the traffic, and landing in the middle of Raira park.

“... so how about Ben and Jerry’s?”

\--

_ ~Thirty Minutes Earlier~ _

“And stay out.”

Shizuo was not happy when a door slammed in his face. And neither was the guy when he broke it down and hit him with it.

Everything was on edge for him. Something was off, incredibly so. He swore he was seeing Izaya  _ everywhere _  since that day at the airport _ ,  _ somehow, like the flea was multiplying. He’d almost hit three people thinking they were him. Maybe it was just paranoia, he hadn’t been in town for at least a week, not even a peep of him. And that meant he was planning something.

“You could calm down a little.” Tom patted his back, as Shizuo let another cigarette. “I think he was going on for his wallet.”

“Then he shouldn’t have locked me out.”

The sun was shining, light reflecting off the steel buildings of Ikebukuro as they made their way to the next stop, the bottom floor of a motel. Ever polite, Shizuo knocked. And when he didn’t get an answer, broke the lock, throwing open the door. 

Inside there was a man, around forty, with greasy black hair and a mustache more like a rat’s tail. “Oi, I was comin’.”

“Of course you were,” Tom drawled. “We’re here on behalf of Lin and Co.”

“Well Lin can Co suck my-” Something gold flashed in the corner of Shizuo’s vision. Something too reminiscent of a knife for his body not to go into action. He stepped to the side, it sailing across the room…

And into the man? But it looked like it disappeared, the moment it touched him.

The room was silent, old-fashioned cat clock ticking away in the corner as the man put a hand on his neck, coming away with a sprinkle of gold dust, gaze locked with Shizuo.

Shit. His eyes were glowing some freaky shade of gold as he stepped towards him. “You’re so handsome…”

Tom cleared his throat, putting a hand on his shoulder. “That’s kind of you and all, but I-”

“He’s mine!” 

It all moved in slow motion, the man grabbing the fork off his plate, it coming at Ton’s eye, him gripping the edge of the couch and hurling it into the man’s stomach, who spattered against the wall like a fly, still alive but probably not going to be happy when he woke up. “You go, Tom. I’ll handle this.”

“It’s alright, just take the money and go.” 

With narrowed eyes, he ripped the safe from the wall, tucking it under his arm as he walked out the door, dumping it in the car.

“Why don’t you take a break, huh?” Tom opened the door. “Take a walk, just meet me back at the office in half an hour.”

“Alright.” He let another cigarette as Tom drove off. So he had some free time. Maybe he’d check out that new ice cream place, it’s supposed to be good. 

Hands in his pockets, he started to walk, when he felt lips attack the back of his neck. “I love you!”

Today was rising up the weird-o-meter too fast. When he turned there was a woman, his age by the look of it. “Look, lady-” His words were cut off by lips.

_ Too far. _

He pushed her off, but as soon as he did, a man took her place, another grabbing his waist, more pulling his hair, his shirt- “Stop!”

They didn’t. So Shizuo didn’t feel too guilty when he sent them flying. Not that it made much of a difference, a new horde came racing towards him with all too familiar cries of love. At least their eyes were gold instead of red this time. Slightly less horror movie esque.

Just as one landed a kiss to his ear, he ripped a stop sign from the ground, swinging it in an arc. There was a scream somewhere behind him, high pitched, but that took seconds priority as someone managed to yank the top buttons of his shirt clean off. There were too many for a street sign alone. 

So, he used a car instead. Lifting it over his head, he aimed his throw at the oncoming mob, hand moving to release when something cold and sticky hit his face, dripping down his glasses, across his lips and plopping into his chest.

It was official. Fuck. Today.

“My brother gave me this.” Even the mob began to back away, from the sheer amount of rage pouring off him. “Do you know what I do to people who break my brother’s things?”

“You touched my car. Y-you’re going to have to pay.”

“Alright.” He was done. Too for today. Some kid wanted to pick a fight with him  _ fine.  _ “But not before I teach you wha-”

That was when he was hit by a car. 

Not a slow one, either, it had to be a hundred plus. The impact shattered along his spine, sending him hurtling towards the ground in a fit of pain, a high pitched ring squealing in his ear.

Too far,  _ too far.  _ That was a flea move- this was the flea’s fault, somehow, he didn’t know how, but he knew it was. Pulling himself to his feet, he grit his teeth, yanking a streetlamp from its foundation. “ _ Izaya!” _

He raced after the car, swinging the pole, but it was just out of reach. Growling, he prepared a throw, when Shizuo knew that the other in the car couldn’t be Izaya. Izaya was a lot of things. Suicidal wasn’t one of them. 

It came hurtling right back at him.

Thinking didn’t go into it, as he threw himself at the sidewalk, tucking and rolling as the tire barreled right by his head, he could hear the squeak of the tires, smell the burning rubber. 

When he stood again, using the lamp as support, his eyes drifted to the brown beret in the back window. 

_ Swift.  _ He gave that kid a chance- knew there was there was something wrong with him from the moment ‘Shizu-Chan’ left that Izaya shaped mouth. That arrogant smirk, outdated fashion, and a neck that would be so easy to crush if he could just  _ catch  _ it-

No. Just. No. He was not having a mini-flea in  _ his  _ city. Simon’s nephew or not. 

The clock tower began to ring. It had been half an hour since he went on his walk. The crowd dispersed, no more I love yous, just him with plenty of broken bones and a hatred for bugs that burned with the fire of a thousand suns.

~~O~~

 

_ ~ Back In Shinjuku ~ _

“Well, he’s here, in Tokyo. Alive enough for your satisfaction?”

A shadow emerged from the bookshelf, spreading along the stairs, silent. “He’s here. H-he’s here, I found him-”

“ _ I  _ found him, actually. Which means, I believe you owe me something.”

There was a tremor in the other’s shoulders, a long sigh, as Izaya caught the flash drive tossed through the air. “You follow instructions so well, good little program.” His grin grew wider seeing the other’s tensed jaw. “I’m surprised you went through all this, just for one boy.”

“I love him. You know that.”

“Really,” he drawled until it was an almost purr, walking up the stairs to face the other. “How interesting. And here I was thinking a machine couldn’t love."

Neither flinched when the lights exploded overhead.

“Question anything you want, Orihara. Call  _ me  _ anything you want. But do  _ not  _ question my love for him. He’s everything to me, he, he-”

“He, yes, I understand, he makes you  _ feel,  _ makes you want to sing and cry, in a way you never knew you could. I’ve read the poems.” Not a blink as he was pinned by his collar to the wall of his own apartment.

“I gave you what you want. I’ll keep giving you what you want if he stays. But don’t forget this,  _ Kanra,  _ I can break you. I can bring this whole program you’ve constructed down in an instant if I wanted.”

“But you won’t.” Izaya’s head lolled lazily to the side, looking up at the other. “Because now your precious is here, and without me, he’ll want to leave. Without me all he’ll have to see is you, and we wouldn’t want him to go looking too closely, now would we?”

“ _ Stop talking. _ ” The other pulled their arm forward, then slammed Izaya back again, electricity thrumming through the house. “He is mine, you understand. Your job is to keep him here until I can keep him on my own.”

“Then you really do need me, don’t you?” Izaya laughed, laughed at the rage on the other’s face. 

“...” The electric teapot in the kitchen whistled, laptop screen growing brighter and brighter.

For a machine, his client  _ was  _ awfully human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Back again, with a longer update this time. Things are heating up fast! Why is everyone suddenly falling for Shizuo? Who is the person Izaya met that night? Will Jonathan ever make a good life decision? Find out next time! Don't forget to like and comment )


	6. The Shot Heard Round the World

“This isn’t our fight! Why should we have to take out these Mayfield punks?”

“Because the boss said to,” Aoba sighed, as the crowbar cracked against the other man’s skull. 

Gin walked along the bodies collected on the floor, cracking the back of the bat into one still twitching on the ground. “They’re wearing a bunch of flowers. What kind of gang uses  _ flowers? _ ”

“Not a very good one…” Aoba looked up at the cyan sky. It was a nice day out, so at least he got to be outside for it. Mikado, after their meeting, had run off, saying he had to walk Anri home, that it wasn’t safe out anymore.

_ - _

_ “What happened _ ?!”

_ Mikado’s eyes were black, stomach bandaged, red seeping through the cuts. Dried blood stuck under his nose, and his jaw had to be cracked at the least.  _

_ “We need to take them out.”  _

_ “Who? What? I’ll do whatever you say, but I need to kn-” Mikado began to fall over, Aoba cursing under his breath, catching him, pushing him into a chair. He didn’t even know Mikado knew where he lived. “I’ll go make you some tea.” _

_ When he came back, there was blood all over Mikado’s hands, from him coughing it up. Aoba texted one of their medics, handing him the cup. “So who’re we taking down for doing this?” _

_ “Mayfield.” _

_ “Mayfield?” He’d heard of them, whispered around. Going around calling themselves Flowers, wearing daisies and stealing from the rich. Apparently, they then were supposed to donate it all to help poor kids, but, if Aoba knew anything about humans, it was that they’d take a good concept and corrupt it before anything beneficial came out of it. His gang was a walking example. “They attacked you?” _

_ “Not just me.” Mikado wiped a dribble of blood from his lip. “Anri too.” _

_ “They hit a girl?” Well. He wasn’t expecting them to be that bad. Kneeling in front of him, Aoba looked up at Mikado. “We’re going to get rid of them. Any one of them who dares steps in our water will be drowned.” _

_ “Good.” Mikado did look rather kingly, even like that, bruised and bandaged up. In his Nitori throne. “I don’t want Anri getting hurt.” _

_ “Who should we send over?” He sat back on his heels. “Right now everyone’s focused on other Dollars.” _

_ “Now everyone should be focused on this.” Hands against the arms of the chair, he leaned forward. “They’re nothing. This shouldn’t take long, then we go back to focusing on cleaning the Dollars, cleaning the city.” _

_ “Of course, boss.” And so, Aoba stood. “Anyone with Mayfield is done.” _

-

They’d taken out at least a hundred for the day, whoever was in Ikebukuro. The vast majority of the organization was headquartered out Shinjuku- which made Aoba more than a little suspicious of the rumor that the founder was some nineteen year old with a bone to pick with Raira- but he figured he’d need Mikado’s approval before they moved out on that little field trip. 

“Come on, let’s head back. Talk about tomorrow’s plan.” He swung the crowbar onto his shoulder, stepping over the moaning bodies littering the ground. 

Neko giggled behind them, hopping from person to person. “Did you see the big guy’s face when I got him? It was like  _ bam  _ and-...and…”

Aoba pulled to a stop right there. Something was off. Neko didn’t stop talking.  _ Ever.  _ “Neko, you alright?”

He knew right when their eyes locked that the question was a mistake. 

Neko pounced on him, nails sharpened into claws, but Aoba slapped it away with the crowbar, cracking it against his stomach. “What’s wrong with you?! Guys, some help!”

When he risked a glance to the side, half his gang was making out with each other, the other passers-by. 

Neko hissed, deep in his throat, scratching, trying to get up from where Aoba kept him pinned with the bar. “I love you, I love you, why won’t you let me love you!” His eyes were glowing gold, dust brushed across his shoulders and Aoba knew he had to get out  _ now.  _

“I really am sorry about this.” He cracked the bud of the bar against his friend’s head, letting him topple to the ground, before taking off running.

The crowd was in a sea of chaos, half the people rushing around like animals, other half seemingly oblivious. He saw a sign swinging somewhere down the street, followed by a mob of people rushing towards it, eyes glowing the same shade as Neko’s. His heart was thundering in his chest, as he threw open the door to a television shop, slamming the door shut behind him. 

“ _ Breaking news: a virus has seemingly swept Ikebukuro. Reports began coming in at nine this afternoon, a man reporting being attacked on the street by a woman with golden eyes, who attempted to sexually assault him, claiming she had “loved him forever”. This was repeated many times throughout the day. Currently, we are bringing you live footage of an altercation in front of Ahua Ice Cream where a crowd of these seemingly stricken have gathered.” _ Shizuo Heiwajima was on screen, a car lifted in the air, aimed at a crowd below. 

What was going on? 

This was worse than that slasher. There it was the dark corners at night, a couple people picked off who shouldn’t have been in the alleyways in the first place. This- he was sure half the population was coming down with it. 

He waited in the store, picking up a new pair of headphones to justify spending at least half an hour in there before daring to venture out again, as the clock tower struck six.

Everything was...back to normal. 

Sure, street signs were ripped up and there were tire marks all over the sidewalk, but that was usual around there. No one’s eyes were glowing, no one screaming I love you, and his gang was pulling apart from each other, disgusted looks on their faces, wiping their lips. 

“Look, Boss, I don’t know what happened-”

Aoba raised a hand “Save it. I saw the news.” 

Neko woke up next, coughing into his hand. “Did you have to hit so hard?”

“Quiet.” He hit the base of the bar against the ground like a scepter. “Listen up. Whatever just happened, we can’t let it happen again. We need to figure it out, so no one can use it on us.”

_ So we can use it on them. _

_ \-- _

“It’s the BL revolution! Do you see it, everywhere!” Erika’s camera was trained on the scene around them, all over, boys on boys, girls on girls, gold glittery dust and sparkles, it was  _ amazing.  _

“We’ll put edit in Ouran music later-”

“No wait, Sekai-Achi-”

“Perfect!”

“Can you two  _ stop.”  _

“Oh, calm down Dotachin,” Erika whined, leaning her head on the jut of the seat. “Isn’t this perfect!”

“I know! We’ve got a real life ABO heat session!”

“We need to get Izaya down here- would he be the Alpha or Omega? Stupid question, he’s  _ obviously  _ the Omega...guys?”

Even Walker didn’t respond that time.

“You’re no fun.” With a huff, she leaned back in her seat, arms crossed as they passed by a row of people fighting over a guy with red hair. “I can’t believe my wish came true.”

Kadota groaned. “It’s times like this I seriously question my friendship with you. All of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone leaving Kudos and Comments, my friends can attest to the actual squeals I let out when I see them. I hope everyone is liking it so far, as the Arrows are finally starting to really make it into the fold.
> 
> Have an amazing day/night, everyone! And I hope you like the next chapter, when Izaya's master plan starts to unfold.
> 
> PS: In case the Notori throne line didn't make much sense, Notori is sort of like Japanese Ikea


	7. Red Roses

Sometimes, Jason thought Jonathan was right for dropping out to pursue his lifelong dream of being a taxi driver. Because school was the  _ worst. _

Day after day, boring,  _ boring,  _ so boring. Math made no sense, he could barely speak English so his Japanese was a trainwreck, he fell asleep in history every day; it was only a month into school and he was ready to quit and become a monk. At least the food would be better.

There was one class though, that he  _ loved.  _ PE. Especially on the days the teacher set them loose in the weight room, and Jason could take out all the frustration of the fact he couldn’t name his own block, let alone all the burrows of Tokyo, on the leather punching bag. 

Not to mention; the gym uniforms were hot. 

Today was a free day in gym. A soccer- football? Was it called football here? Whatever- field was center stage, T-Ball stand set for when the elementary school came over. Groups fractured out, some track kids grouping up to practice, bigger guys tossing around a ball, the trio of angel girls sitting in the stands on their phones, reapplying lipstick, some really hot chick with, uh, nice, wow, that, wow, nice wows talking with that boy he'd heard called Mikado. Who to go after today…

When he saw the bent over back, he knew just who.

“Hey, Shorty, someone that cute shouldn’t be all alone, who knows what someone might do.”

The girl on the mat quickly spun around, fast enough her glasses almost flew off. “Okay, yeah,  _ no. _ ” Huh. Kind of androgynous voice for a chick, not that it was that bad. But with the short haircut someone could almost confuse her for a guy. And what was with the beret? “One, you’re too white to ever use ‘shorty’.” It was then Jason realized she was responding in English. “Two,  _ no. _ ”

“Sweet, some new Americana.” He tossed an arm over her shoulder. “And hey! I’m half Japanese.”

“You’re blonde with a Bieber cut. You’re too white.”

“Boo.” Jason ruffled her hair. “So, sweetheart, am I going to get a name, or am I going to have to keep using Shorty?”

“If you don’t stop calling me that-”

“What about Bambi? You look like a Bamb-”

That was when an elbow sailed right into his stomach. Not that it really mattered. He couldn’t feel pain, and doubted it was much of an impact anyway, but it still startled him enough to let go.

“What the hell!” Jason rubbed his stomach. 

“...I just jabbed you in the liver. Why aren’t you dying?”

“Couldn’t feel a thing.” Jason hummed, leaning against the wall by the mat. 

The girl groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “What are you doing here?”

“A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t-” 

Jason isn’t exactly sure how he found himself pinned to the ground. But he knew that for once, he didn’t like it. This chick’s attitude was starting to piss him off. “You’re the brother, aren’t you? Should have known. Guess Jonathan took all of the _somewhat_ good genetic material.”

Okay, he wasn’t exactly sure what that insult was, but it involved his brother so now he was  _ pissed.  _ “Hey, don’t say shit about Jonathan.” He flipped them over, so she was under him. 

Her eyes narrowed up. “And what if I do? He’s an adrenaline high ape who doesn’t understand the meaning of self preserva-”

Jason didn’t like to hit girls. This chick was quickly becoming an exception. “I said,” he growled, punching the space right by the other’s head, who barely flinched. “ _ Don’t talk about him. _ ”

“Why? What are  _ you  _ going to do about it?”

Jason lifted her up by the collar, pressing her against the wall, fist pulled back- and found a blade right through it. 

He was screaming. Vaguely away of that. The girl- wait, nope, that was a boy, his knee brushed down there and yep, definitely a boy- had a rope in his hand, connected to the flurry of blades currently embedded in Jason’s palm, shaped like a grappling hook. Jason couldn’t feel it of course, he couldn’t feel anything, but  _ holy shit there was a grappling hook in his hand. _

Well. At least it’s not a girl. So he didn’t have to feel like shit for what was going to happen next. 

He slid his brass knuckles from his sleeve, pushing them onto his fist as he swung at the other’s head, who dodged under, ducking between his legs to the other side, dragging him and his skewered hand down with him into an almost flip. What  _ was  _ this guy?

No. Hell no, was he losing his first fight to some guy who looked like a girl doing pilates.

Jason curled his hand around the hook, yanking back, hard, which sent the other flying at the wall flipping in the air so his feet landed instead, kicking off, but Jason yanked at the last moment so he went crashing headfirst into Jason’s chest instead, who took the opportunity to land a bunch on his shoulder with a satisfying  _ crack.  _

Bambi cried out, grabbing his shoulder as hook broke free, hissing, swinging the hook to try and catch his ankle, but Jason knew what to expect now, jumping over it and landing a kick to his side. 

The boy went rolling, with almost scary ease, landing on his knee and shooting out the hook again, this time catching in the dip of Jason’s brass knuckles, swinging himself around until the rope was pulled tight around Jason’s neck.

_ Shit.  _

Pain was a pretty rare thing for Jason, as he couldn’t ever feel it through his body. Sparks didn’t burn, stabs didn’t throb, but yeah, he could suffocate just like anyone else, so fire was flooding through his blood, adrenaline pumping as he jabbed his elbow back into the other’s stomach, who bent over, wheezing, but didn’t release his hold. Jason managed to turn though, grabbing the other by the back of the neck. If they were going down, they were going down together, damn i-

“Starkweather! Swift! Knock that off!” Jason felt himself being twisted around, the rope untangling, as he was wrenched away, ‘Swift’ going in the other direction. 

“This isn’t over,  _ Bambi. _ ”

Swift snorted, eyes burning, and suddenly Jason realized how much those eyes looked like that guy from the alleyway. “Right back at you,  _ Darwin. _ ”

Jason would find out later that day Darwin apparently stood for the Darwin Award. A rather ironic nickname considering Swift was the one who picked a fight with a guy did it for a living.

But  _ oh _ , wrapping his pierced hand, Jason swore to himself, he was going to make sure Swift never. Forgot it.

\--

“You don’t think this is a little cruel? Even for you?” Namie’s voice rang out over the phone.

Izaya laughed, lowering the binoculars from the window of the little cafe positioned just perfectly to see out over the schoolyard. “He wants to be like me, right? Then he needs some monster to slay. Starkweather’s not quite the beast Shizu-chan is, but, with that pain tolerance, he cuts it close.”

“Yeah, well, there’re other kids at that school- I don’t think they can handle another  _ you _ .”

“Well they’re going to have to.” He stood, stretching. “In fact, I think he may just need another little  _ push. _ ”

~~O~~

 

**Setton:** Hey, I wanted to check in on everyone. Are you all okay?

This thing going around is really scary

Do you think it’s aliens? I thought about it a lot last night and the only thing I can think of is aliens using the earth to conduct experiments!

**Mai:** Maybe this is all part of some super kinky intergalactic porn! I call first probing ~

**Setton:** This is serious! 

**Mai:** Stop being such a downer.  _ I  _ bet you just want all the probing for yourself.

Celty mentally sighed, standing to pace, arms locked behind her back. This wasn’t getting her anywhere. Everything was piling on too fast!

Anri was going to stay with them, until Celty was sure she wasn’t considering suicide anymore. Shinra hadn’t been too happy at first, whining about how they spent so little alone time together as was, but after a few jabs, stating if Anri wasn’t staying she wasn’t either, and proof that she could build a soundproof wall, he agreed. 

But Anri was at school, at least for another hour or so. Which Celty  _ thought  _ would mean she could relax, but instead she was even more worked up than before. And now not only did she have Anri to worry about, but whatever... _ that  _ was going around.

She didn’t know what it was. But she knew she should. That she’d seen it, been a part of it at some point, but she couldn’t remember how or what or when it was, that was all in her head, her head currently  _ who knows where.  _

“Hey, Celty, something wrong? You’ve been staring at that screen all day…”

Leaning her shoulders back, she gave a noncommittal shrug, typing. “[A lot on my mind.]”

“Penny for your thoughts?” He sat down next to her. She couldn’t help but wonder that if Shinra fell sick she probably wouldn’t even notice the difference.

“[I think I’ve been through this before.]”

“Sitting on a couch with a handsome, loving future husb- ow!”

“[Focus!]” She turned towards him, sitting on her knees. “[This thing going around, making everyone act in love.]”

“Oh, that.” Shinra’s voice dropped low. “I don’t know what it is either, but it’s not a virus. Sure, a virus can spread fast, but not  _ that  _ fast. And they don’t just vanish all at once. Some people are getting it more than once, too.”

“[Then what is it?]”

“You’re asking the wrong guy.” Shinra slid closer to her. “I do the physical stuff, broken bones, bullet wounds, sometimes a poisoning, but disease is well above my pay grade.”

“[I think it’s important.]” No. She  _ knew  _ it was important. “[What if it’s not aliens, and someone finds out how to control it? What if  _ Izaya  _ finds out how to control it?]”

“I’m sure everything will be-” Then the name sunk in. “...we have to figure out what’s causing this.” 

“[You think?]” Grabbing her helmet, she slid it on. “[I have a job scheduled in half an hour, I’ll head out early, see if I can spot anything.]”

“Do you think we should as-”

“[Don’t ask Izaya.]”

Shinra frowned, standing up. “Why not? If anyone knows, it would be him.”

“[Because if he doesn’t, he will.]”

“Celty...if we know. He does.” 

Alright, that was fair. “[Fine. Tell him you’re worried you’d fall ill, not that we’re looking for it ourselves.]”

“Of course, my love, I am but your humble serv- ow!”

“[Sorry.]” She sent over a puff of smoke in the shape of lips, landing on his cheek. “[I’ll be home soon.]”

“I love you.” Shinra kissed the side of her helmet, and Celty nearly melted. 

“[I love you too you big dork.]”

~~O~~

~ _That Night~_

“What’s wrong?”

Masaomi wasn’t used to being the one asking these questions. It always seemed the other way around, Saki reading him, telling him his deepest fears and insecurities before he even knew them for himself. But something was wrong. Masaomi knew it from the moment Saki had walked in the door.

The first clue was the fact it was  _ Saki  _ who walked through the door.

His surprise had nothing to do with her being a her- it wouldn’t have been any sort of shock if he was with any of his past girlfriends (both just friends and otherwise). Even with Anri that wouldn’t have. But Saki had always been more cautious, probably convinced Izaya would try to find a way to hook her again, or what remained of the Blue Squares would come along to finish what they started.

She never left the house after eight, never returned after nine. But here she was walking, into the apartment well after midnight, twisting the handle to avoid the loud click of the lock; a trick he knew, because he did it. When he didn’t want to wake Saki. When he didn’t want her to know how late he was. 

In all fairness, she’d been smarter about it than he usually was. She waited until after they were in bed, put a cotton swatch in the door earlier to muffle the sound of the lock coming undone, a tissue over the light of her phone to dim it as she walked. If it weren’t for the nightmare he’d gotten ten minutes after she’d left, he might not have even known she was gone.

But he did. And the only thing that stopped him from going after her was the fact that maybe, just, maybe, she didn’t want him to.

The first thing to hit him was the smell. Floral, intense, with something metallic trailing faintly in the background.

“Masaomi?” Saki didn’t jump. She was always too composed for that. But he could see it, the flash of fear in her eyes. “You’re awake? Did something happen- did you have a nightmare again?”

Nodding, he came to his feet. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why did you go out?”

She giggled, holding up a plastic bag. “Girl problems. Ran out, needed to pick some up.”

Oh. Now he felt stupid for being so worried. Though… “Where was the shop?” Was it near some flower shop? Why did she smell like some sort of floral perfume? 

“The one by that Taiwanese place down the block.” She set the bag on the counter. “I’m really tired, can we head to bed, please?”

He could hear the clock ticking in the background but the smell of flowers wouldn’t leave him alone. “Yeah, sure.” He kissed her soft on the forehead. “I’ll meet you in bed, okay? I want some tea, to calm down.”

“I can make it for you.” She cupped her cheek in her hand. “You should really see someone about those nightmares. You can’t go forever without sleep.”

_ Watch me.  _ “I know, I won’t worry you.” With a laugh, he threw her arm over her shoulder. “I don’t mind staying up  _ all night long  _ with you.”

She giggled, pushing on his chest, and he gave a dramatic stumble back. “Go to bed, playboy.”

He blew her a kiss as she went to into the bedroom. This was wrong, probably. Some sort of breach of trust. But…

_ Convenience stores don’t smell like metal flowers.  _

Was she cheating? Guys didn’t usually wear flower perfume. Maybe it was with another girl? Was he going to lose his girl to another girl? Though even that didn’t seem right. It didn’t smell like perfume, it felt like, like...she was bathing in blood and roses. That was it. The metallic scent, he recognized it. Blood.

Saki smelled like blood.

_ Calm down,  _ he commanded himself, feeling his own go cold.  _ She said she was heading out for girl problems. It could always be just that. _

But it wasn’t. He somehow knew it wasn’t. 

Making sure the door was shut to the bedroom, Masaomi walked to the bags on the floor, throwing a heavy blanket over them to muffle the sound as he dragged them behind the kitchen counter. He started the tea boiling, letting it whistle to cover up the crinkle as he opened the bag

There were feminine products, some more toothbrushes, new makeup and nightguard cleaner. Nothing that looked too strange.

But it  _ reeked.  _ Reeked of blood and roses. 

He took out the tampon box, something he never thought he’d have to do, biting his lip. Was this going too far? He should trust her, that she wouldn’t do anything stupid, that she wouldn’t get involved with the underworld again.

But what if she had? What if Izaya had gotten to her again, brainwashed her, told her to carry back some severed head and keep in the box? What if the Blue Squares were blackmailing her, threatening to hurt him if she didn’t comply? Or another gang? Or some cult or supernatural being? After everything he’d seen, he wouldn’t rule out a god of death playing tricks just to spite him.

He opened the box. Knowing this could very well be the end of his relationship, he opened the box, dumping all the tampons to the ground, breathing hard. 

Inside, among the scattered pastel packages, was a rose. Ruby red, glistening bright and painfully plump, like it was soaked in liquid. Gold trimmed the outside edges, dripping down like frosting. Like someone molten metal bled. 

That hit him more than anything. The overpowering scent of blood and rose and sex, hit him like a punch in the throat, making him fall back, staring at the little flower with its petals arranged like they’d been masterfully carved.

There was nothing suspicious about it. There shouldn’t have been, anyway. It was a rose, a simple rose, there were a million reasons for it- their anniversary was coming up, his birthday, a friend’s birthday, the cashier was flirting with her, she found it on the way home and thought it was pretty.

But it wasn’t. He just knew it wasn’t. That little rose that smelled of blood and sex and war, somehow, was the beginning of something terrifying. Something new and earth-shattering and for the high was feeling from just the smell of it, for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to hate it.

He picked it up. Holding it between two fingers, careful not to let them brush a thorn, twirling it in his hand. His mind was fuzzy, numb, and he felt his cheeks start to heat, breath coming in short pants. What to do. He had this, what was he going to do with it, what did it mean?

He could tell her. Avoid all the Soap Opera drama later, just barge in there and demand an answer. But that would also be the end of the relationship, that he distrusted her enough that he spilled out her tampon box. Sure, it was justified in this case, but he knew girls, hell, he knew himself. If Saki had done the same to him, he'd never have forgiven her, and she had much more of a reason to distrust him than him her. 

He could hide it. Pretend it never happened. Act like it's an anniversary gift, which it probably was, put it back in the packaging and never look again. But that felt wrong. Not just because there was something more to this rose, but somehow, he couldn't stand the thought of it going away. In his hazy, swirled together mind, the idea of never seeing this rose again ached more than anything else in his life.

So that was a no.

There was the third option. The one involving him crawling back to Ikebukuro. Not to Izaya, not this time. He'd do his own investigation before he ever dragged that leach into this. But his Scarves might know. Ask around at least.

Alright, that sounded safe. He tucked the rose back in where he found it, piling back in the pretty pastel packages and placing it back in the bag, bag back against the wall. Calmly. Maybe robotically, he poured his tea, sitting on a mat on the floor, letting the warm scent of green tea try to drive away the scent of the rose.

But it wouldn't. It wasn't. It was etched deep in his head now. And what disturbed him most was he wanted it to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Finally got to bring in Masaomi and Saki into this. I hope people like my interpretation of Saki here. I'm trying to make sure she's proactive in the story, instead of just a tagalong to Masaomi. 
> 
> This may be the last update for a couple days. PSATs are tomorrow and the end of the grading period is coming up so wish me luck! 
> 
> I hope everyone has an amazing day/night! Don't forget to like and comment what you think :)
> 
> PS: On the lines "Jason lifted her up by the collar" through "Grappling hook in his hand" I was totally playing the opening London Bridge by Fergie.


	8. Karma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karma's a bitch.

He thought this would all go away when he came to Japan. Even if the trip was against his will, if he hates this city to its very core, that was the one bright side, that maybe he’d be able to leave  _ that  _ all behind. He knew he’d miss parts of it, the wind against his skin, high off the ground, with nothing but a hook, a rope, and his own flexibility to stop him from toppling down again. 

But, Karma’s a bitch. And he wasn’t deluded enough to think he was good enough person that he didn’t deserve all that was coming to him.

No, Eliot thought, as he swung up the hook, catching it around a flagpole and flipping himself up, landing on the thin pole, arched like a cat, with perfect precision. He deserved this. All of this. Deserved all that was coming to him. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to fight it tooth and nail against it.

And maybe, somewhere deep in him, he just wanted to show himself that he could beat the man who seemed to represent everything he could never be.

Glass buildings were always harder than the usual fire escape laden, cracked and dusty stone ones back home. More witnesses, slick surfaces. Dressed all in black, every section of skin covered but his already dark hands, it wasn’t like anyone could recognize him, he blended in well with the surrounding. But glass was harder to dig your fingers into, to find a place for his hook. 

He swung up, managing to catch the dip where the pane was placed, pulling himself up, and when he was hanging in the air flipped to catch his foot in a balcony above, dangling upside down. The streets, even at three in the morning, were far from empty, but all the residential lights were out. Car bustle seemed almost muffled, like someone had stuffed a cotton pillow over the mouth of the city. 

Three more floors to go. 

Yanking himself up from the balcony, he moved closer to the right end of the building, where there were a series of ridges, probably for artistic effect, but it made his job a hell of a lot easier. 

A few minutes later, he was crouching right by the window to the top floor apartment, slipping on his gas mask under his hood, and pulling a small vial from his pocket, pouring the contents into a nail oil pen. He painted the liquid inside on, a circle just big enough for him to fit through, letting it eat away the glass. No alarm sounded. 

Alright. This was it. One step through, and it was official. He’d be what he was in Tokyo as he was back home.

Well, better than delivery boy he supposed. 

Popping out the hole of glass, he slid through into the apartment, feet soundlessly touching down on the carpet floor. It was pitch black, silent, abandoned. 

Now to find out what that basta-

_ Clap, clap, clap.  _ “Under an hour, I must say, that is rather impressive. You passed the test with flying colors, Swift. Congratulations.”

No.  _ No.  _ Oh god no, no, he stepped back, sticking close to the circle. He couldn’t talk, if he did his voice would give away the little deniability he has left.

“Oh come on now.” Izaya swiveled the chair, massive, where his laptop lit his face in his lap, orange on the screen reflecting like fire. “Don’t go scampering off now when you went through all the trouble of getting here.”

He didn’t want to. He’d never  _ had  _ to on a break in before, he’d always gone in when the owner was away, got them tied up, sleeping, drugged...at least it shouldn’t be attributed to  _ him.  _ He’s supposedly all the way back in Brooklyn. 

He swung the hook. Right at that pretty little head, the one he wanted to be his own, he swung it hard as he could, trying to pierce the throat, when a knife flew through the rope, the hook dribbling helplessly to the ground. 

Shock. Silence. He was completely defenseless now, he couldn’t even get  _ down _ , what was he think- a knife flew right under his arm, pinning the sleeve to the wall, followed by his other, and his leg; it scraped the hoodie right off the top of his head, revealing his face, mask over his mouth, eyes wide and terrified. 

This was how he was going to die. Away from home, inside an unfamiliar building, to a man he both wanted to kill and become more than anything else in the world. Well, at least it was dramatic. 

“So, Swift.” Izaya stood, the coat rippling around his feet. It was a longer one than usual, this scraping his ankles. “Or should I call you  _ Karma? _ ”

“ _ Shut up, _ ” he tried to yell through the smoke screen. Nimble fingers plucked it off his mouth, leaving him coughing and wheezing. 

Izaya tutted. “I wouldn’t be so rude. You did break into  _ my  _ house after all.” He flicked the screen to the floor, grinding it under the soul of his foot. “And here I was going to make you an offer.”

“What do you know about me?”

“How cute, you’re trying to make demands.” Izaya sat on his desk, legs swinging like a schoolgirl's. “Well, I know your family history. I know how the Brezhnevs treat their children. I know that Simon wanted to pull you away from all that because he  _ thought  _ you couldn’t handle it.”

“Stop.” His breathing was getting faster, harder, as he tried to yank out the knives.

“You asked, Karma.” Izaya hummed, as he tossed another knife, this one landing right by his ankle. “I know about your little stories online, I know just how  _ angry  _ you are that all your brothers and sisters and cousins are big and strong and tough. I know how jealous you are, that while you were left to scavenge, when they needed money for their dinner, they could walk up to the first man they saw and take it. You had to be more creative than that.”

“How do you know all this!?” He tried to kick away his leg but found a knife land right at the crux of his knee for the effort.

“You adapted very well to all that, I can almost admire it.” Now he was just tossing up and down the knife, little flips to keep Eliot’s eyes trained. “You considered weaponry, trying for guns and swords, even-” Eliot winced as the knife bit the side of his neck, a droplet trickling down- “these. But, with those glasses? You wouldn’t be able to do a thing. Not to mention that wouldn’t help the  _ real  _ problem, would it?”

Tears were prickling at his eyes, head hanging down, teeth grit. 

“But then, one day, you’d had enough of being punched and kicked and starved. So, you decided, there’s no better way to get revenge than stealing something precious to the ones who did it, selling it away to pay for your own, hm? Left a note saying  _ Karma’s a Bitch.  _ That’s how this came about.” Reaching down, Izaya plucked the self-made grappling hook from the ground, a spiral of melted knives reinforced and sharpened again. “Creative, to say the least. Double purpose. Let’s you attack from a safe distance, and escape if that attack goes wrong.”

“What do you want from me!” Blood was thrumming in his ears. “If you’re going to kill me, do it, stop taunting me.”

“But I’m not done telling you what I know. One request at a time.” The sound of the shoes clicking on the ground echoed almost as loud as his heartbeat in his own ears, as Izaya knelt down to his height, face to face, looking him dead in the eyes. “I know you saw me that first day you were here, taking on a giant that looked oh so much like your brothers, and realized that I was everything you could ever hope to be.”

The fight drained out of him, drop by drop, little trickles of blood spilling onto the ground. “Just kill me already.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Izaya yanked out the knife by his leg, stabbing it right by his cheek instead. “Not to mention what a waste. I wouldn’t even have to train you.”

What? What was going on, what was he even saying? 

“You’ve been asking me what  _ I  _ want this whole time, Karma. So why don’t you tell me what you do?”

“What I want?” What  _ did  _ he want? More than anything else. What he wanted had never been a concern for him, it was always what it took to survive. He knew what he liked; he liked photography and Shakespeare, Garlic Knots and French fashion, but, in terms of goals...

“Why don’t I take a crack at that too.” Izaya pulled the knife from one of his sleeves, the arm falling down. “You want to be stronger, don't you? You want to be powerful enough that no one could ever touch you again. You want your family to raise you as an example, not a failure because you can't lift a car. You see, Eliot, you remind me of someone, and because of that, I'll cut you a deal. I can give that to you. The power, the control over your own fate, the riches and respect.”

“And what do you get out of it?”

“I won’t be around forever, and even if I am, I’ll want to expand someday, maybe into American markets.” Izaya hummed, ripping out the other knife. “Not to mention, you’re pretty good with a camera, that hook. You ran over Shizu-chan too, quick way to get into my good graces.”

Both his arms were free. He could reach down, pluck away the knives and defend himself. Tell Orihara to fuck off and leave him alone. He could get him at knifepoint, ask more questions. 

_ What did he want? _

He wanted that. He wanted what Izaya had. He wanted the penthouse suite, he wanted the respect, he wanted random high schoolers on the street to warn people about  _ him _ . He wanted his family back home to hear what he’d become and stop thinking of him as the runt of the litter, the baby needing protection, the failure. 

Izaya had that. Izaya was what he could be a few years in the future if he played everything right. Feared, powerful, god-like in his reach _.  _

_ Respected.  _

That was what he wanted, wasn’t it? Respect. And if that failed, fear. 

Izaya had his hand out, an offering, as the knives were kicked from his pants legs, leaving him crumpling to his knees. From down there, he looked bigger. Like a marble statue carved to perfection, to be solid and light all at once. Carved to beckon him in past the point of no return.

He took that hand. Signed his soul away to the Shinjuku devil. Because if it took becoming a demon to get what he wanted, a demon he’d be.

~~O~~

 

One of the reasons Namie had been so successful in life- before Nebula came and screwed everything over- was her ability to sort and categorize facts. 

It was a useful skill, probably one of the reasons Izaya kept her around. More than collecting, analyzing, or manipulating information, Namie was an expert at drawing connections between events and putting them into the correct boxes for future reference.

Here were some facts. Namie loved Seiji. Seiji loved the head. People all over the city were falling in love at random. Mika was a jealous stalker. Namie would kill to protect Seiji. Mika would kill protect her head.

Both would kill to protect their share.

Izaya gave her the day out of the apartment, he needed to be alone to torture that Eliot kid. Still confused her why he was even bothering with him. She’d heard him ramble on the phone about human collateral to someone, and the kid’s name came up a couple times, but when Izaya saw she was listening, the conversation got switched to some foreign language Namie couldn’t name that had an awful lot of ones and zeroes in it. 

However, whatever Izaya was doing, that wasn’t important to her now. Neither was the kid. What happened to him was extraneous to her goals, to her job, to Seiji. 

What wasn’t, however, was the fact something, someone, was causing these outbreaks.

It wasn’t a virus. She knew for a fact it wasn’t a virus. Not only did it simply not act like one, people getting the sickness twice, spreading and stopping, contact seemingly having nothing to do with infection, but, she’d been keeping track, and there was something in common with all of them.

A rose.

_ Izaya’s not the only one able to get information around here.  _ She grinned down at the two phones in her lap as she crossed her legs, taking the train into Ikebukuro. It had been simple, really. Gotten some old employees to place cameras hidden away in bushes, trees, others to hack into the traffic ones, sending her the video. 

She poured through them, one by one. Kept notes on a separate document. Every fact, she sorted into relevance and got her answers.

First, the symptoms lasted half an hour. Period. 

Then, there was gold, a flash of gold which she hadn’t deduced the meaning of yet. Simply something gold was in the area when everything went off. But that wasn’t nearly as helpful as the other hint, though.

_ Roses.  _

Every single attack had roses in the area. Ahua Ice Cream had rose bushes out front, Yao Video where the Blue Squares got trapped, a rose was left abandoned on the sidewalk. It was small, almost imperceptible to see through the grainy image, but it was there, certainly.

Four ‘o clock the day before, in the largest outbreak yet, an advertisement for Rose Perfume had been playing on the TV above the square. Roses, roses, always roses. A mass infection by a rose shop, or where roses were drawn on the ground.

That was where the trip to Ikebukuro came in. 

“You sure it’s there?” she spoke onto the phone, scanning over the data once more. 

“Yeah, lady, it’s there. How many times do I have to say it?”

“As many times as I want if you want to be paid.” She shut the phone, as the subway pulled to a stop. A pack of roses in her hand, another waiting for her by a rose shop, with roses drawn on the ground.

When she arrived, she placed her own bouquet in the center, like a sacrifice, as she pulled her long jacket’s hood up over her head. She was unrecognizable with it, legs crossed at the knee, sunglasses settled on her nose. 

Originally, she debated inviting Seiji. standing in the center, so when the gold swept through they’d be swept up with it. But no, that was too risky, not until she’d tested it thoroughly. And what better way than on the little minx trying to take  _ her  _ Seiji.

Like a good little thorn in her side, Mika and that infuriating head of hers appeared, bag in hand, shaking. 

It wasn’t hard getting her there; just a few threats from a borrowed phone saying they’d take Seiji if she didn’t pay up a couple hundred yen. Small enough that she’d pay and move on, large enough to not be taken as a joke.

She glanced down to her phone, pink hat pulled low over her eyes, as Namie typed out, [ _ Place the package in the center of the rose. We will send someone to check the contents. Stay there until we say otherwise.] _

Mika bit her lip, pacing back and forth as she put the purse down. Now all Namie needed to do was wait. If it was the roses which brought the love virus, Mika would be dead center for a target. If it wasn’t- Namie got an advance on this week’s salary. 

The minutes ticked by, ten, twenty, an hour. Few of the hits occurred after six, so when the clock struck twenty to, Namie stood, ready to call the day a bust.

Then, the gold pierced her neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry for being so late with the update. PSATs were today and...yeah. Math. Not good.
> 
> Anyway, so, some answers are finally being revealed. Part of the reason I love writing this is because I get to add more to some of the lesser focused on characters in the series, so I can't wait to tie in Izaya's 'I know how the Brezhnevs treat their children' to how Simon found his way to Russia. 
> 
> Don't forget to kudo if you liked it, and comment what you think. Have a wonderful day/night!
> 
> (Also, get it. Karma's a bitch. Because Eliot _is_ Karma, and Namie has karma happen to her. Double meaning. Eh. Eh. No. Right. Sorry.)


	9. Gold Eyes

Mika was never the best with facts. They all swirled in her head, never seemed to mean anything outside of themselves. She’d never liked that; nothing should _ever_ be  alone . Which was why she hated that she was more than anything. 

Seiji was out with some of his old friends. Normally, Mika would never let that pass, have him go without her, but for once she wasn’t going to argue with him; she needed to do this alone.

Anyone who threatened Seiji would have to face her. 

She spun the ring on her finger, sharpened tip dripping with clear liquid. Small, unnoticeable to anyone who wasn’t looking for it. She stood right in the center of the chalk rose, waiting for the trenchcoat to come billowing it.

Instead, she found arms wrapped around her waist. 

“I never saw how pretty you were before.” 

That voice. That couldn’t be. It  _ couldn’t.  _

“I still don’t like that head, but we can take it off, get back to you underneath. I’ll take you back to the lab, we don’t need the head, I just need you.  _ Only need you. _ Mine.  _ Mine. _ ” The arms pulled tighter, knocking the air right out of her as she felt a chin rest on her shoulder. “I love you, I love you, I love you-”

This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. Mika knew what her agreement was, knew it when she signed on, that she’d have to fight one day, that Namie’s sick and twisted obsession for Seiji would lead to conflict. This, however, wasn’t in the picture.

She managed to twist around, the arms still around her waist, looking up to the face so close she could smell the mint on the other’s breath, see the glow of gold in the other’s eyes. Glow? Why were her eye-

The virus.

Suddenly everything snapped in her head. The messages, the roses, everything was for the Virus, this was a setup. And she’d fallen right for it.

“Namie, snap out of it.” She tried to pull away, but Namie had the height and weight advantage. “Snap out of it, S-Seiji would be upse-”

“Don’t say anybody’s name but mine.” Everything in Mika tensed hearing the tone. “Can’t you see I’m enough, because I love you, I-”

_ Seiji, forgive me.  _ She sliced all the way across Namie’s stomach with the tip of her ring.

The blood began to drip, as Namie cried out, pulling away as the green stained with pools of red. She turned, foot planting on the ground to run, when a hand grasped her wrist, pulling her back, pressing her into a bench. “You did  _ not!” _

That shouldn’t be possible. Namie should be passing out, probably dead from the poison, how was she not- there were lips on her cheek, little shushing motions moving along her sides. “It’s okay, I forgive you, I love you, I’ll just kill whoever gave you that ring now tell me so I can  _ kill. _ ” The eyes were glowing brighter. Mika had never seen Namie as particularly a threat, but this time…

This time she could have proof to Seiji that Namie was insane. 

How had she not thought of this? Why hadn’t she tried something like this before? Namie had been a pain in her side, a tool, a good one too, but one she’d wanted gone since the surgery, who she knew was going to backstab her to steal her love away. Well, she could take care of that.

“Namie…” Her eyes went wide, as she reached up, cupping Namie’s cheek, who leaned into the hand, distracting her as she pulled out her phone. This was dangerous. If Namie turned violent, she could die from this. 

Perfect.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” 

Video, on.

Namie’s color drained from her face, the gold still glowing bright, before she felt her arms ripped behind her back, pressed into the wall of the nearest shop. “How can you not love me? I love you, you should love me  _ back.  _ Who’s making you say you don’t, I’ll stop them, I’ll kill them for you- just tell me.”

Deep breaths, Mika, deep breaths. So started the tears, manufactured, forced, but believable and just barely in view from the angle her phone, now dropped to the ground, camera up. “I love him, I can’t leave him, I’m sor-”

“Love me.” She wasn’t expecting the knife to her throat. “Say you love me. Then I’m going to take you with me so you can learn that I’m the only one you need,  _ okay.  _ That you’re  _ mine. _ ”

The minutes were ticking by, agony from the pain of her arms, thrill rocketing up her spine as she did everything in her power to hide her smile. “I don’t want to lie to you. Please, think about Seiji, he cares about you, you don’t want to hurt him-” She was whipped around, face boxed in by arms.

“Seiji isn’t important right now. I don’t love him, I love  _ you. _ ”

Yeah. Sure. “Namie, please let me go, I’ll do anything, just let me go.”

“Say you love me. Then come with me. Just love me forever and ever and ever and ever.” The glow grew brighter with every word, crowding Mika closer and closer. There was something unnatural in them, that gold, but seemed all too human. 

Token struggle. She could break free, if she wanted- Namie’s hold was all wrong- but she put up the token cries. The street was empty, so there was no one to ‘save’ her, as she was pulled into a kiss. 

Alright, enough video for now. She kissed Namie back, enough to let her relax, before slamming her knee into her stomach, taking the momentary gasp to duck between her arms, grabbing her phone off the ground, taking off.

Namie was in pursuit. Shouting, screaming. She was faster than normal, definitely, whatever that virus was must affect her movement too, and for once Mika wasn’t sure she’d get out of it. She turned a corner, ducking into an alleyway, throwing herself behind some trash cans, cowering as she peeked through the bins.

“Mika? Mika, pretty, where are you? I love you- where are you, why aren’t you here, I need you, Mika, Mika, Mika!” The words got more and more hysteric as Namie passed her alleyway, then rounded back, pacing, pulling at her hair until a clump of brown came out, crying out until she dropped to the ground, sobbing.

Ten minutes she sat like that. Hunched, terrified to make a sound. Then, six twenty on the dot, and Namie stood, touching her eye in horror, wiping her lips like she’d been burned, gagging, before running off looking like she was going to be sick.

That wasn't part of the video. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I know this chapter was shorter than the usual, but I wanted to keep this relatively chronological, and the next chapter takes place a couple days after the end of this scene. 
> 
> I hope everyone likes where the story's going. Oh, the irony of Namie. Sorry. But what will Mika do now that she has the video? Find out soon! And also find out why Jason should not be trusted with fragile objects. Or people. And Shizuo just wants a cigarette and damn kids taller than him leaving him alone.
> 
> Anyway, have a wonderful day/night! Don't forget to comment what you think :)


	10. The Fighter

Scratch what he said before- _often,_ did Jason think Jonathan was lucky for getting out early.

Jason always hated school. That hadn’t changed. But the reason why certainly had.

It started when Swift was transferred into his creative writing class first period. Jason had taken it, as an elective, figuring it would be an easy A- it wasn’t- and bring up his awful GPA. From the moment they locked eyes, Jason _knew,_ just _knew_ this little war of theirs was far from over.

Swift- who he learned from roll call’s first name was Eliot, and now added fur to the edges of his already obnoxious outfit- was determined to die, it seemed. They wrote short stories that day. Swift’s about a dinosaur named Jasonasaur who saw a light in the sky, thought it was a meteor, and ran into a vine which strangled him to death, the species going extinct. Jason made his a remake of Bambi where the huntsman had much better aim, looking Swift right in the eye the whole time he read it out.

That was only the beginning.

During Lunch, Swift hooked the leg of his chair and yanked it back right before he sat, making him fall and dump food all over himself. Jason returned the favor by patting his back with the brass knuckles hidden under his sleeve _just_ hard enough to have him cough up blood. During the next passing period, Eliot caught the hood of his jacket and yanked it back nearly causing Jason to suffocate, a challenge which was duly returned when Jason hip checked him into the nearest locker where there was now an Eliot shaped dent.

It seemed like he was everywhere. _Everywhere._ On the school news, delivering papers, in PE, Creative Writing, English, every period of the day he’d been forced to see his taunting, doe-eyed stare. But finally, in his last period of the day, he had reprieve.

And the single best moment of his entire life.

“F-Fiyero…” His eyes were wide as he slowly reached out his hand, to test that this wasn’t just his imagination, that he was there, in front of him.

Maybe he didn’t need the hand to test it to touch his ass but he was in shock okay.

The boy squeaked, whipping around from where he was talking with those three angel girls. He had on a pair of dark glasses, a bit less makeup than usual on stage, in the pastel blues of the Raira uniform instead of the clover green of his usual look but _it was him._

“Fiyero Deamorte.” His head wasn’t working. All thought shut down because _he was meeting Fiyero Deamorte._

He saw Fiyero’s eyes go wide beneath the sunglasses through the arch of his eyebrows. “Shh, shh.” Then he found his hand was wrapped in another- he was holding _Fiyero Deamorte’s_ hand- and was pulled out of the hallway and into a janitor's closet. “You know who I am?”

“Fiyero Deamorte,” he supplied, again, because that was the only thing his brain seemed capable of thinking right now.

Biting his lip, those perfect ruby red lips, Fiyero slid the glasses into the cherry hair, eyes green and brighter than the sun. “Wait, you look like...Oh my god, like, you’re Johnny’s brother right?”

Well that dulled the high real quick. “You know Jonathan?”

“Yeah, he totes helped me move in.” Jason was going to be angry, that Jonathan got to meet his idol before him, that he didn’t _tell_ him, but Fiyero had a hand on his cheek and his lips were on it and this was it this was his death he was going to die right there and be perfectly happy with it. “You know…” the whisper hit right at the shell of his ear, hands sliding under his shirt, nails brushing against his skin and he felt his heat _sore,_ vision tinting gold, swaying, biting his lip. “You’re cute and all, if this was home, I’d totally let you do whatever you wanted to me,” Jason’s hands were slid to Fiyero’s hips, “but…”

Then the warmth was gone. He stumbled forward, like someone had ripped the life right from him, and it was dangling for a string in Fiyero’s long, dainty, perfectly crafted fingers.

“I’m afraid I’ve already been promised.”

What? No. No, that was- he’s gonna kill them. Whoever it was, no, they were not taking his dream away from him, not when he was this close to it. All Jason had ever wanted in life with a peaceful cabin in the middle of nowhere with Deamorte and beer and no one was ripping it away when it was this close.

“Who is it?” He struggled to keep his voice low, steady.

Humming, Fiyero spun himself on Jason’s hand. “I don’t know, I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

“I wouldn’t be the one getting hurt.” Jason squeezed the hand tighter. “I’ll do anything, just tell me who they are.”

“How about this.” Fiyero looked up at him, green swirled with an undercoat of gold. “If you can beat him in a fight, I’ll go on a date with you.”

That was really all it took? To live out his dream? “I’ll do it.”

With a giggle, Fiyero pecked his cheek. “His name,” he whispered, Jason could swear up and down he’d never forget this feeling, he’d beat whoever he needed just to keep Fiyero as his- “is Shizuo Heiwajima.”

_Who?_

-

As soon as Jason had turned the corner, brass knuckles shining on his hands, Eliot stepped out from behind the lockers, leaning with his foot kicked back on the wall. “So, he’s going after Heiwajima?”

“Yep!” Fiyero hummed, fluttering his eyes. “And, like, I get the apartment to myself all night?”

“A promise is a promise.” He gave a lazy salute. “I can crash at Izaya’s if I tell him I sent Jason after his ‘Shizu-chan’.”

Clicking his tongue, Fiyero leaned next to Eliot, pulling out a pocket mirror to check his hair. “Like, someone could get really hurt, you know.”

“That’s the plan.” Eliot shrugged, eyes trained to the ceiling. “It’s perfect. Shizuo wins, Jason gets his ass kicked and I blackmail him for it. Jason wins, Izaya gives me the raise of a lifetime for getting rid of Shizuo.”

Giggling, Fiyero snapped the mirror shut. “Manipulative little thing, aren’t you?”

“I’m learning.”

~~O~~

Tom must have the patience of a saint. That is the only reason Shizuo could come up with for the fact he wasn’t fired. Tom was an absolute saint.

“That was the third door today. Look, something wrong?” Tom looked up from his notepad.

“Nah, just, this virus is freaking me out.” It was far from the mob from yesterday, but here and there he’d see a flash of gold from the corner of his eye and a moment later someone would be declaring their love. It was better than with the Slasher at least. Love didn’t mean cut to pieces this time, just annoy him to death.

“Ah. Still trying to decide if I should be offended they’re not coming after me.” The bells rang through the city. “Hey, it’s seven, we finished up the list, why don’t you head home?”

“Yeah. Alright.” Tom waved, walking off, and Shizuo lit up another cigarette, walking with his hands in his pockets. Sure, he knew they were bad for him. But he also knew the Flea hated them, so he made sure to always have a pack handy.

The sky was overcast, casting strange shadows on the walls. But it was nice out. Streets seemed a little emptier, probably over fear of the recent outbreak.

“Hey! You Shizuo Heiwajima?” 

Ugh. Shizuo turned to face the newcomer. “Yeah, what about it? Wait a second- you’re the guy who threw the ice cream at me!”

“...what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me.” Shizuo cracked his knuckles.

“You mean...Jonathan?”

Oh. Yeah, actually, this did look like a different guy, near identical, but not quite. This guy was taller- probably three inches more than himself, a rare sight around Ikebukuro, only guy he could think of who was off the top of his head was Simon- a bit more visible muscle, and a Raira uniform. “Yeah, probably.” He put his hands back in his pockets. No, he wasn’t going to hit some kid because his brother was an ass. “What do you want?”

The kid stepped closer, glancing around. “Hey, so, there’s this guy, who I really like, he said if I did this he’d go on a date with me...so...sorry.”

“Wha-” That was when he got a brass knuckle right to the face.

The kid was strong. He’d give him that. One of the strongest punches he’s taken in a while. Plus he did give him a warning. And it was that little bit of respect that was going to let him give this offer. “You have _one_ chance to walk away, kid. One. Chance.”

The kid gave him a wide eyed look, jaw hanging. Then punched him again.

_Alright._ Now he was pissed. Now he was really freakin’ pissed. Despite the fact the kid was taller, he grabbed him by the nose, lifting him into the air, stepping onto a planter to gain an extra foot or so. Then, he flicked his wrist, sending him cracking against the wall of a building, the stone splintering as he crashed to the ground.

Shizuo dusted off his hands. “I warned-”

The kid got up, walked over and punched him in the stomach.

_What the hell?_ He grabbed him by the collar, flinging him into another wall, this time upside down. The kid slid down, twitching on the ground, before groaning, clawing himself shakily back onto his feet. “Y-you think you can take me out that easy?” Blood dribbled down his chin.

He _thinks_ he can see the guy’s broken arm at an angle even Izaya couldn’t pull.

The kid swung another hit with the knuckles, but Shizuo caught it, twisting it behind his back. He heard the crack, but there wasn’t a single change on the guy’s face. Alright, that was pissing him off too now. He slammed him against the wall, again, but not a word of pain. “Kid, what is _wrong with you?_ ” Shizuo pushed him, letting him stumble back.

“I can't feel pain so nothing you d-” _click._ This was getting weirder by the second. “Hey, did you hear that?”

“Shit.” Shizuo grabbed a stop sign, waiting for the flash of gold.

_Click._

The kid’s cocky grin began to drop.

_Click. Click. Click click click cli-_

“Swift!”

Sure enough, there was the Swift brat, across the street, camera in hand, arm over his mouth to stifle laughter. Though, the moment he saw the other kid’s eyes on him, it dropped.

“Hey,” Shizuo cracked his knuckles. “You’re the bastard who likes running people over.” Wait. Was he wearing _fur_ now?! Now he knew what was going on. “ _Izaya._ ” He growled under his breath.

Eliot gulped, taking a step back, the camera still up, then turned heel to run. “Oh no you don’t.” The blonde took off after him, racing across the traffic, sliding over the roof of a car and chasing him down. It all looked achingly familiar. The coat fluttering behind Swift, the mutterings of ‘I’m gonna kill you’ from the kid. Suddenly Shizuo felt the anger for the blonde bubble away.

And be replaced by the desire to see Swift _burn_ . “Cut him off! Get him in a corner!” Izay- Eliot. Eliot. People like _Eliot_ thrived in open spaces, with plenty room to dodge. Blonde threw a punch at him, and Eliot flipped back, landing on his toes a couple feet away.

Blonde seemed to follow his advice though, crowding him against a wall. Eliot was pressed against it, Blonde charging right at him. Oh yeah, even if he couldn’t watch Izaya get creamed, this would be a close secon-

Eliot grapple-hooked onto a pole above them.

_Crunch._

Even Shizuo had to wince, seeing the nose press in when Blonde ran right into the wall, blood spouting down it, dribbling down his face as he fell back, hitting the pavement with a hard _thunk._ And, if Shizuo needed any more proof that he found flea-junior, first thing Eliot did was snap a picture of it before hooking into a balcony across the narrow alleyway and pulling himself away.

Blonde was groaning on the floor, pulling himself back to his feet.

“...you’re crazy, kid.” Shizuo sighed, hoisting the other up. “But at least you know who the bad guys are. What’s your name?”

Blonde let out a long groan, but wiped some of the blood off his face with his sleeve. “Jason.”

“Come on, Jason, I’m taking you to a friend.” Ignoring his protest, Shizuo threw him over his shoulder.

Maybe he felt a little ownership over this kid. If for no other reason than to have someone else take out the mini-flea for him. Ha. Izaya wasn’t the only master manipulator.


	11. Justice

If there was one thing he loved, it was giving these speeches. Looking over the crowd focused solely on him, on his platform- not raised, of course, because he wasn’t better than any of them, he was equal level, the symbolism was important- sun framing down on his hair casting a halo in the light. It was these moments that convinced him he made the right choice, starting all of this. Despite what the law said, half his friends said, survival instinct said, he made the right choice taking Orihara’s offer.

Hands on the podium. At least a hundred people, his age, dressed in greens and floral prints looked back at him. Some scared, desperate, others with the same fire that burned in his own eyes.

“We are the fields of may.” Midori raised his chin, taking a deep breath, the smell of pollen settling his nerves. They had their meetings out in the open, in the out of city farms. Thought it would be fitting “We are the soil that holds the earth, the foundation of this city. But every day we’re trampled”- cheer- “spat at” -cheer- “mocked, used, abused by the high rises that tower above on _our_ labor.

“They think they own us.” He pushed past the podium, taking the umbrella leaning against the side and hitting the tip down like it was a cane. “That we’re buried far enough beneath the pounds of concrete that we’re safe to strip of our fruit, buy our silence until spring comes again.

“Not anymore.”

Walking to the edge of the stage, he looked down to those in the front row. They always sat the youngest in the front. No one below sixteen was allowed, but now Midori was questioning even that. They looked so _young_ here. So eager and excited.

They looked like May.

“We are not here for you.” He pointed the umbrella into the crowd, sharpened tip forward. “There is no you here. She is not a she and he is not a he, we aren’t human, here. We’re Flowers. Vines ready to rip this city from its foundation.

“We are here for our brothers.  
We are here for our sisters.  
For our future daughters, future sons, for the little girl scavenging for scraps on the street,” he took a deep breath, “for the young boy with a genius mind trapped in a school system that forgets anyone without a uniform.

“We fight for the broken. For the tired and abused. We fight for those without a home to come back to when they come from a school that can’t afford to feed them.”

The crowd cheered, loud, standing, as Midori stood taller. “The Dollars claim to be for equality. That no one is above the rest. But what have they done, huh? Cleaned up graffiti in neighborhoods kids can’t afford easels? Save some Raira kids, and only Raira kids, from other Raira kids.

“They don’t care about _us._ They don’t care because we can’t afford phones with internet.

“The Scarves claim they’re for belonging, for comradery of themselves. For the other Raira rich. To protect the sacred chosen in their gilded cloth.

“We’re not them.” Midori spun his umbrella, pointing it up to the sky, sun glinting down against it, head tilted up. “We will be bigger than them, stronger than them. We’ll strike harder, faster, better, because we’ve got something on our side they never will.

“Justice.”

~~O~~

“ _[Have you called him yet?]”_

 _“[Of course!]”_ He hadn’t. He’d put it off as long as humanly possible and planned to continue to. Texting her back, he leaned in his chair. “ _[He didn’t pick up.]”_

_“[Shinra.This was your idea. Call him.]”_

He really. Really didn’t want to. But fine, if it made Celty happy. With a sigh, Shinra dialed the number, fingers crossed behind his back that Izaya wouldn’t pick up. “ _Shinra, what a pleasant surprise.”_ Of course the one time he didn’t want him to. _“I didn’t even have to call away Celty this time._ ”

“Yeah, she’s out right now.”

“ _Oh? Doing what?_ ”

“Just hunting for-” Wait. He wasn’t supposed to talk about that. “...deals. At the grocery store. We’re baking a cake.”

“ _Cake. Really. For what occasion?”_

This was why he tried to avoid lying on the spot. “Funeral. Uh, my, great, aunt, my great aunt Petunia died.”

“ _Aww, that’s too bad. I’m sorry for your loss. I don’t know too many Petunia’s in Japan, though.”_

Rude. Jerk knew he was lying, he had too, he was just messing with him. “She’s from France. She fell in love with a butcher's son during the war, ran away and changed her name to avoid being hunted down by Nazi’s.”

_“...very nice. Well, my condolences. I’ll be sure to attend the funeral; when is it?”_

Why was he friends with Izaya again? “She was cremated.”

_“Then the memorial?”_

“Didn’t believe in them.”

_“Not having a memorial for your dear departed Aunt? And you call me the cruel one.”_

There was a reason he called, right? Oh yeah. “Hey, I actually need to ask you about something?” He could hear Izaya booting up a computer at the same time as a _‘hm’._ “I need some information on-”

_“Information? I’m flattered.”_

“You should be, there was really no one else who would know more than you.” Maybe if he played into his ego he could get off the phone faster? “So, there’s that thing everyone’s calling a virus going around. Do you know anything about it?”

_“Why? Thinking you can bottle it, use it on your true love.”_

“Of course not!” Even though that actually sounded like an amazing idea. Why didn’t he think of that? Finding a way to harness the effects, maybe put it in Celty’s soup...no. No, he wasn’t going to do that to her. “We just want to know.”

 _“Just how much?_ ”

“Are you seriously going to make me _pay_ for this! How many times have you broke into my apartment in the middle of the night demanding I fix you right then.”

“ _You were always paid for those, well above market.”_

His eye twitched. “I’ll ask Celty. I’m sure she’d do an extra run for you.”

“ _Sounds perfect. Alright, so my source sa-_ ” That’s when the door burst off its hinges.

“Delivery.” A very annoyed Shizuo dumped an even more annoyed guy on his couch. Not appreciated, since he was dripping blood. Everywhere. His arm was bent at a strange angle, other hand bandaged up like someone shoved it through a meat grinder. Guy was pretty big too, taller than Shizuo.

“I’ll have to call you back.

“ _Oh, my, I wonder who It could be.”_ Nope. No time for the cryptic threats. Not dealing with that. He shut off the phone, sighing as he walked over, where the guy was bouncing his foot. For as big as he was, he looked young. Maybe it was just the uniform. “Can I have your na-”

“Jason. Starkweather.” Jason’s eyes kept darting around, like he was expecting someone to stab him, until they landed on him, and the frown turned into a grin. “Well, hello there. I would’ve got hurt a lot sooner if I knew you were the nurse.”

How did he always manage to find these people? “I’m going to need to set these bones, he’ll want to be out for this.”

Jason licked his lips. “Well, you can knock me out any ti-” The needle went into his neck and he collapsed on the couch. “

You really know how to pick’em, Shizuo.”

Shizuo shrugged, leaning back on the wall next to the door. Shinra cleared his throat, and he groaned, gently placing it back on the hinges. “Izaya’s starting a cult again.”

“Again?” He popped a joint back into place. “You say that like he ever stopped.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Shizuo took out the pack of cigarettes, going to light one before Shinra threw a pillow at his head. “Hey, what the hell?!”

“No smoking in here! You could give Celty cancer!”

“She’s _immortal._ ”

“Secondhand smoke is a killer.”

“She doesn’t have _lungs._ ”

“Stress as many words as you like, you’re here, you follow my rules.” When he finished up with Jason, he dusted off his hands. “Why did you bring him here, anyway?”

Shizuo’s hands were twitchy. Shinra noticed when he didn’t have a cigarette, they usually were, trying to find something to push the nervous energy onto. “There’s this new guy, Eliot Swift or something; Izaya broke him. Sketchy to start, but now he’s running around wearing fur and I’m pretty sure he got this kid to try and go after me since he was standing around taking pictures.”

“Izaya’s good at that.” Shinra laughed a little, as he brushed past Shizuo, going into the kitchen. “You want anything to drink?”

“Milk.”

“...alright. Sure.” Pouring the drinks, he came back out, careful to give Shizuo a cup he didn’t mind being shattered. AKA: His dad’s. “And there was this other kid he did that too when we were going to college. I forget his name, Aoba I think, but he goes to Raira now. Really messed the kid up.”

“Someone needs to mess _him_ up.” You know, when Shizuo sat next to the teenager on the couch, same pouting expression and crossed arms, Shinra could almost see him passing for one too. “It’s why I couldn’t just leave this one. I mean, he’s crazy, I don’t think he feels pain, so-”

“Wait, what did you say?” Was that possible? Well theoretically it was, but, it was so rare… “Why do you think?”

“I flung him into a wall. Twice. Then broke his arm, and he shouted some BS about ‘you think you can me down that easy’. Didn’t even wince.”

Well, now he was annoyed he knocked him out. Partly because it was a waste of a pretty expensive painkiller, but more just because, what would it be like, operating on a patient alive the whole time, but, couldn’t feel it? It wouldn’t be like with Celty. With Celty she was screaming, crying in the way one could without a head. It was clear it hurt for her.

He almost wonders if someone would look more dead with open eyes, breathing without a sound, or passed out on anesthesia.

“Shinra. I know that look. _No._ ”

“What?” He blinked, the picture of innocence.

“You’re not cutting him up.”

“Of course not! Not on a couch Celty might use.” Shinra huffed, seeing his patient start to stir. “He’ll wake up in a couple minutes, you can take him.”

Shizuo hoisted Jason over his shoulder. “Yeah, alright. I guess I’ll see you soon?”

“Hopefully not. Unless you mean without you getting hurt.” Shinra walked to the door, opening it for him. “But, I doubt it. If Izaya’s planning something, we should all probably be ready for some medical attention.”

“ _Oh?”_ The voice in the doorway said. “And what plan would that be?”

Uh oh. No, no, he just got new carpet, no- “Shizuo.” Every muscle on him was tense, eyes locked on the smirk right outside and why did he choose to call _today?_ “Calm down. He’s leaving soon.” _And,_ he dropped the kid like a sack of potatoes.

“How many times do I have to tell you to stay. Out. Of my. City.”

Tutting, Izaya leaned in the doorway. “And not visit my friend? I’m not some sort of monster Shizuo; I leave that to you."

Shizuo was ready to punch. And Izaya certainly would have dodged if he did. But the hit came from below and for the first time since middle school, Shinra got to see actual shock on Izaya Orihara’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! So I've officially caught up, every chapter will be written as I write it now :) 
> 
> So we've got our first glimpse of the inner workings of Mayfield now. And Midori _totally_ isn't a mix of Green from Pokemon's aesthetic with Light Yagami's personality, pfft, of course not. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed it! Thank you again to everyone who's been kudoing and commenting, it really helps motivate me to write more. I hope everyone has an amazing day/night! Next chapter, Izaya gets a couple more surprises, Jason gets a roommate, and Kadota just wants his friends to CTFO.


	12. Crash

“You’re wrong! Light Yagami obviously has the superior planning capabilities.”

“No way, Lelouch took down a  _ nation,  _ without a Death Note! He has to go up to people and only use his power once, that takes much superior planning.”

“But Lelouch didn’t have to do research to use his Geass! All he had to do was find-”

“Guys, can we please cut it out today.” Kyouhei leaned his head against the dashboard. “Just today.” The pain was throbbing in his temple, eyes shut as he let out a long breath. “And it’s Lelouch anyway.”

“Ha!” Erika stood, banging her own head against the roof of the van. “Told you!”

“What happened last night?” 

“Nothing, Saburo. Just spent too much time with paint thinner.” Which involved having it dumped all over him. He could still feel the thing in his cuts. “Where are we going?”

“Ryohogo Narito is signing autographs at Maki Maki!” Erika clapped in the back. “I brought fifteen hundred copies.” 

Right now the thought of standing outside in the blaring sunlight watching some poor guy be threatened at fork-point to sign copies seemed like actual hell. “Alright, but I’m staying in the van.”

“Aww come on, it’s not the same without you!” 

“Yeah, we need our strong Big Brother type in case anything goes wrong!” Walker grinned, before being hip-checked against the door.

“No way! He’s more like a wise mentor trying to gain back his youth by helping his juniors!”

“I’m not even a year older than most of you.” He groaned, hiding his head in his arms. “Just please. Quiet. Just for the rest of the ride.”

The peace lasted about four minutes. They didn’t arrive for half an hour.

When they pulled up, Erika and Walker burst out the doors, laughing, Saburo parking along the side of the street. Finally, he could relax…

“ _ Sorry sorry sorry I am so sorry please- ow, ow, I’m sorry, please stop, please, ow, sorry, sorry, I-I really need tha- ow.”  _

Damn his morals. Really. Damn them. He should just stay blissfully ignorant, pretend he didn’t hear what was happening. But he couldn’t. So he hauled his head up, looking out the window.

There were three guys, he was pretty sure he’d seen them around before, one with orange hair, with a strange shaved part down the middle. Other two were twins of some sort, brunettes with hooked noses and crooked jaws, probably from being broken. 

On the floor there was a kid curled up with his knees to his chest, shaking. His cheek was bloody, black hair sticking out in all directions, tinted red from cuts. Pretty strangely dressed too, in some bright purple-blue coat. His suitcase was spilled next to them, clothes in the same hue, some Raira uniforms, and every electronic known under the sun scattered on the ground. Looked to be sixteen at the most. 

Damn it. “Come on,” he said to Saburo, as he got out the car, slamming it behind him. Hopefully he could make this quick. 

The three were still kicking at the kid, who’d started to cry. Really?  _ Really?  _ Was this that stereotypical an asshole maneuver. “Hey,” Saburo walked over, pushing one of the guys from behind. “Knock it off.”

The one in the center turned, stepping hard on the boy’s knee, who tried to scramble away, but one of the other’s caught him by the arm and pressed him against the wall behind him by the neck. “Yeah? What’re you gonna do about it. We’re with the Dollar-”

“Uh. Hiroshi, I think that’s-”

“You think I give a damn who you think he is! Come at me.” Did he really just thrust his crotch at him?  _ Seriously? _

Kyouhei did come at him. Punching him square in the forehead, letting his neck snap back and tumble to the ground. The other two ran off after that.

“I-is he s-shut down?” 

“Nah, he’s not dead if that’s what you’re asking, just knocked out.” Kyouhei kneeled down to eye level with the kid. “Hey, can I have your name?”

“H-Hisashi.” He gulped, curling in closer to himself. “F-Fumihito. I-I go by Sparks though, if that’s, if that’s okay.”

“Nice to meet you, Sparks.” He offered a hand, which he took, being helped to his feet. “I’m Kyouhei, and that’s my friend, Saburo.”

“Hey.” 

Sparks gulped, giving a small bow. “Thank you, f-for helping me.” Biting his lip, he knelt down again, starting to pack away the suitcases. “I-I was just trying to get to my new apartment.”

“Do you need a ride?” Kyouhei helped set the suitcases up. “No offense, but, carrying nice stuff like that around isn’t the brightest idea here.”

“Lucky it wasn’t Mayfield.” Saburo opened up the trunk of the car, loading the bags as they got repacked. “Why did those guys go after you?”

“I-I don’t know, I really don’t, I’m sorry.” 

Sparks could be tall, Kyouhei noted. Probably was. But he was so hunched over, pulled tight like he was trying to fit himself into the smallest space possible, from a distance he would’ve put him shorter than Walker. The glasses too big for his face and puffy hair didn’t help either. “They’re always around looking for some way to seem tough.”

When everything was loaded in the car, Erika and Walker came back over, carrying their bags of signed goods. Then, Erika saw him. “We have found him! The little brother type. Dotachin saved him, right? We did it!”

Walker took Sparks’s arm, throwing him into the back as Erika went in the other side. Kyouhei just felt bad for the kid. He had no idea what he was getting into.

“T-Thanks.” He was bright red. “I-I guess?”

“He stutters!” Walked pulled him against his side. “That is perfect for a shrinking violet.”

“No!” The kid was yanked the other way. “He’s really big and strong which means he needs to gain confidence and unlock his true power as a Yandere!”

“No  _ way.  _ He’s not a yandere, girl yanderes are the cute and shy ones, male yanderes are smooth and confident-ow!”

“Don’t be sexist.” Erika cooed and pet down Sparks’s hair. “He could totally be the shy innocent one no one expects before, bam! Kidnapping and killing everyone in the name of love.”

“If he’s a dere, he’s a  _ dan _ dere.”

“Maybe, until he finds his love interest! Some tiny, adorable type A tsundere breaks through his shell, but then rejects him, and he’d do anything to bring him back-”

“Him?”

“Yes. Him.”

“Erika, your yaoi is showing,” Saburo said from the front. 

“A-am I allowed a say in thi-”

“ _ No. _ ” Erika and Walker said at once, yanking him back and forth between them. 

“He could be like Yuno-”

“No way!  _ If  _ he’s a yandere, and he’s not, he’s Yuka from Eleven Eyes, because the one would awaken his powers of confiden-”

“No no no! Don’t you know anything about Yandere; he would fall for a  _ tsundere,  _ maybe a kuudere, but no way-”

“How come you think you know, huh!”

_ Stop talking. Stop talking. Stop talking,  _ Kyouhei was pleading in his head. “Are we there yet?”

“Almost. Just a couple mo- shit!” Sabura banked hard to the left, people screaming as the dove out of the way on the sidewalk. A car blew past them, going the wrong way on the road, a tiny electric Toyota. “That guy almost killed us!”

Why was the world determined to make him die of a headache?

Finally they pulled up to the apartment complex. Because he was a good person, he offered to help carry Sparks’s bags. Because his leg was probably sprained, he accepted. They brought the bags up the stairs, and into the room, decked out with fight club posters and postcards from little mountain towns.

“This is a nice place.”

“Thank you.” Sparks took the bags, lining them up neatly against the wall. “I-I hope my roommate is better…”

“Got bad ones last time?”

“She made me sleep outside.”

Wow, this kid needed a backbone. “Well, if this one tries to do anything, give us a call, alright? Erika and Walker seem to like you.”

He had a gap tooth. Seriously. Who made this kid? “T-thank you, so much, for everything. I don’t know what w-would have happened.”

“No problem.” He pat his head. “I should be heading out now, before they get bored and blow torch the place.”

“No.” His voice went lower, before quickly sliding back to the shaky pitch. “T-that wouldn’t be g-good. Right?”

“Yeah...I’ll see you around.” Kyouhei walked out, shutting the door behind him. But he couldn't shake the feeling that the eyes looking out the door weren’t staring at him.

~~O~~

Shizuo was really glad he didn’t turn that kid to goo.

The crack hit at Izaya’s ankle, Jason actually landed a hit on him, and the  _ crunch  _ that echoed out was the most beautiful sound Shizuo had ever heard. Although, it did piss him off a little that some kid off the street was able to do what he’d been trying to for a decade now, at this point, he was willing to consider him an extension of himself. 

Izaya hissed, clutching at the ankle. He almost looked civil like that. Like he was a human being and not some parasite sucking the life out of him. “And here I was, coming for polite conversation.” It was probably meant to be some teasing flea-like threat, but with the way his teeth were grit, shaking in pain, it didn’t really come out that way. And that made Shizuo smile all the more.

Jason wiped his eyes, swaying a bit, as he came back to his feet. “Wait, you’re not Bambi? Shit, sorry, I thought you were-”

“Don’t apologize. You did good.” Shizuo pat him on the back, grinning. “And now that you can’t run…” He pulled the door out again, raising it high.

Apparently, the flea could still run.

Yeah, Shizuo should have known better than to think it would be  _ that  _ easy. He’d gotten legs broken, hell, he’d gotten shot while high on adrenaline. You can push pain back forever as long as you think you’re gonna die. 

Oh well. It’s still an advantage, and he was going to take it. Sure, he couldn’t kill him this time- he believed in a fair fight- but roughing him up enough he won’t come back was definitely on the table. Speaking of which; he grabbed the table leg from Shinra’s kitchen, ignoring his protests as he raced down the stairs. 

Izaya was rushing out the door of the lobby by the time he got there. Must be wearing the longer coat today, it was brushing around his ankles...not that he knew what coats he owned. The hood was up, as he was racing down the street a while ahead of him. 

Oh no he didn’t. Shizuo threw down the table leg, opting for a mailbox instead, tossing it to try and block him off. Izaya easily sidestepped, ducking and rolling out and into an alleyway. 

Alleyway? Since when did Izaya use- not thinking. This wasn’t the time for thinking. This was the time for kicking ass. He raced after him, breath coming out in pants. “ _ Izaya-Kun. _ ”

There was no response. Strange, considering it was usually Izaya making the taunts. And where was Jason?

Then all that washed from his mind because Izaya was there, right there, facing a wall. “Dead end. Out of luck, louse.” He grabbed the lid of a trashcan, stalking closer, feeling the fire racing through his blood, the way it only did with Izaya. There still wasn’t a response, and he didn’t turn around. 

Was he always that short? Izaya was smaller than him, that he knew, but he didn’t remember it being...no. Wait.  _ Oh shit.  _ He threw the lid, and sure enough, out came the grappling hook, yanking himself up onto a pipe directly above, the hood falling. Damn it.  _ Damn it! _ Damn it damn it damn it- wait, if Swift was there, where the hell was Izaya? 

He got his answer when he was, once again, hit by a car.

-

_ ~Half an Hour Earlier~ _

_ “Hey, Jonathan, I need a favor.”  _

_ “Of course! No problem, I’d love to-” _

_ “Can you give my boss a lift? At that address, I texted you, in about twenty minutes?” _

_ “I’ll be there in ten!” _

“ _ Great. Just drive away quick, alright? Drop him off back where you saw me in Shinjuku. He’ll be wearing my jacket and hat. And don’t ask any questions.” _

_ “Wasn’t planning too! I’ll be the best driver you’ve ever seen.” _

_ “You better. My raise depends on this. I’ll send you the rest of the details by text.” _

-

Jonathan was excited. Who was he kidding, he was  _ ecstatic.  _ It was his first called in service! Not one he just picked up off the street, but a real, certified, we-like-you-can-you-drive-us taxi driver experience! 

He hummed along to his playlist- today was the Blues Brothers soundtrack- fidgeting with the gear shift, tapping his foot, every window open as instructed. Really, he wasn’t supposed to be there for another, eh, eight minutes, but he’d taken a shortcut through an apartment building with a really wide lobby.

Maybe he should call Eliot, ask if his boss was ready any ear- wait a second, who just ran out of the building? Some guy about Eliot’s height in a fur coat, hood pulled up- wait, no, he recognized that walk, that was Eliot. 

And  _ that  _ was the guy from the ice cream shop. 

Alright. So. That was happening. Okay. Should he save him? He looked to be doing fine on his own, and Shizuo  _ did  _ have a habit of throwing cars, plus there was the alleyway thing…

Oh! The doors opened again, then shut, with a flash of breeze. He couldn’t see much through the tinted windows; someone came out from behind a plant, another standing on the stairs. The one on the stairs shouted something, swung a fist. Something metallic flew through the air, but it bounced off the fist. A second one flew, and the one on the stairs yelped, grabbing their stomach and growling, charging at the first, who burst out the door- oh, he was wearing Eliot’s hat and jacket, that must be the client.

The second burst through a second after, covered in cuts- wait, was that  _ Jason?  _  “Jonathan?” Jason stopped mid-step staring. 

“Uh…” Yeah he wasn’t supposed to ask any questions, so- he floored it. The guy in the back’s eyes went wide, clutching onto the door handle, as he raced down the street. Alright, alright, next on the instruction sheet- ah! Third alleyway on the right. With a hum, he swung around, positioned between the two walls, he shot inside.

Oh. There was a guy in the way...well...not anymore. So he’s just going to pretend that didn’t happen. The client was leaning out the window, staring at the guy they’d run over in shock. But then a hook landed in his window, and a thunk on the roof, as Eliot slipped into the back on the opposite side of his client, panting. “I said  _ slowly. _ ”

“I’m under a hundred!” He had to shout since the wind was so loud.

“ _ What?”  _

“I said I-”

“Vending machine!” the client shouted this time. And sure enough, a vending machine was flying right at them. 

Jonathan stopped short, letting it fly over, crunching in front of him, before he ran over it too, leading back onto the street. Shizuo was chasing after them, screaming bloody murder, which, alright, Jonathan could admit he thought he just committed.

“What is wrong with that monster?” The client was looking out the back window, now all of them closed. “How can he  _ still  _ be moving?”

“I jabbed Jason in the spleen and he didn’t even wince.” Eliot looked to the front. “Speaking of, you’re not telling Jason about this, right?”

“Of course not.” He squeezed between a motorcycle and a van with some anime girl on it, then, when traffic got annoying, moved to the sidewalk instead, people diving into stores. “You told me not to ask any questions.”

The client was holding on tight to handle on the roof, seat belt on, a hand braced on the seat in front, when the police sirens started.

“Ugh, of course.” Then he saw a shopping mall up ahead...oh yeah. With a laugh, he plucked his sunglasses off the dashboard, slipping them on as the mall theme came. “It’s a hundred and six miles to Chicago. We’ve got a full tank of gas, half pack of cigarettes. It’s dark outside, and we’re wearing sunglasses.”

“Literally none of that is corre- Jonathan!” There were two screams in the back, he’s pretty sure they were holding onto each other actually, as he swung the car, making it almost tip onto its side to fit between the ball barriers blocking the way into the front door of the mall.

The crunch of glass was one of the most satisfying sounds of his life. Oh yeah, this was good. This was what he wanted when he took this job. Heart racing, pupils blown wide as he swerved around one of those win-a-car shows. This was what he’d been trying to pin down ever since the crash.

He was going to have to thank Eliot for it later.

Most of the cars were forced to stop at the ball barrier, but there was one cop on a motorcycle still chasing after him. Actually, he thinks he’s seen him before, Kinnosuke something, at the station when he was getting his license to drive a taxi. 

Well, better not get caught then. Don’t want that revoked. 

He blew through the fence to one of those indoor not-real-ice skating rinks, car skidding across the slick surface, picking up more speed as he landed on the other side. What to do...ah! Wide spiral stairs, perfect! 

Pulling into top gear, he shot the car right at them, angled up to avoid scratching along the bumps. The car followed, curving along the stairs, people hugging the sides, before he landed on the top floor. Kinosuke had taken the escalator for his, but it was on the other end of the gap between the floors. So he had a few seconds to decide...ah. A balcony. If he could make that jump-

“Hold on!”  _ Vroom vroom.  _ The purr of the engine.  _ Vroom vroom.  _ Just like the crash, that perfect crash, he didn’t think his grin could get any wider as he broke through the glass doors, launching off the edge of the balcony, soaring through the air to the sound of screams…

And landing on the roof of the building across. 

He did so again, this time onto the top of a parking garage, rushing down the floors and out of sight of the officer, cursing from the edge of the first balcony. 

Soon enough, they pulled up calmly to the from of the Shinjuku building, Jonathan yawning when they arrived. “Thank you again for being my first call customer! It’s on me, really. I owe you for the chance.”

Eliot scrambled out of the car, the client staring at him, sheet white. “Do you happen to a have a card? I know some people who may be in need of your services.”

“Really!” This was officially the best day ever- besides the crash. He bit back a squeal, grabbing out of his business cards, handing over a full stack to him. “Thank you so much! If you ever need a ride again, please call. I don’t really ever take breaks.”

“That sounds perfect.” He pulled himself off from the seat, opening the door. If it weren’t for the skin color, his client totally could have been Eliot’s brother. They have the same eyes, at least. Similar voices, builds. “I’ll see you around, Jonathan.”

“Of course! Can I have your name? I mean, I don’t have to, I’m not supposed to ask questions, I just don’t want to keep having to call you ‘the client’ in the narration I always have going in my head.”

The client looked to Eliot, who mouthed ‘ _ sorry about him, short notice’  _ before looking back. “Izaya Orihara.”

“Thanks! See you later, Izaya. Letting you know, I’m doing Uber Eats too, soon.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

As he drove off, he could have sworn he saw Izaya say, “You are  _ never  _ picking the getaway car again,” but he’s sure that was just his imagination.

~~O~~

~ _ Later that Night~ _

_ “You did  what  with him?” _

_ “It was necessary. You wanted  a way to get into Kishitani’s house without being caught, I got you the way.” _

_ “He could have died!” _

_ “Your concern for the fact I was  also  in that car is astounding.” _

_ “I swear. If he gets hurt while on your watch, this, all of  this,  is over." _

The line went dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anything else, I just want to thank everyone for all the kind words from these chapters. I've been terrified of posting fanfiction for so long, since I was twelve, because I was embarrassed of what I posted back then, and was worried people would think I was still as awful I was. So hearing how much people like it really regained my confidence in my writing. I read every single comment, and the fact I'm getting any, let alone from amazing writers, has me so greatful. Thank you to everyone who's kudoing, bookmarking, commenting, or even just reading it- it means everything to me.
> 
> Okay, okay, sappy ramblings aside, I hope everyone liked this chapter! I think it's the longest one yet. Some new mysteries were revealed: What is 'the crash', who is trying to get into Shinra's apartment, why did Izaya have the plan to get in and escape so quickly, and why does anyone let Jonathan behind the wheel of something that can move? Find out in the rest of Durarara x2.5! Have a wonderful day/night everyone!


	13. Colors

**Kanra:** OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG ＼(〇_ｏ)／ 

**Taro Tanaka:** Is Kanra okay?

**Mai:** Someone broke Kanra, yes!

**Bakyura:** Oh yeah! Let’s throw a party. Mai, Kyo, you’ll be the guests of honor~

**Kanra:** I’m not dead!!! I’m freaking out oh my god oh my god oh my god someone broke  _ into my house  _ I’m not kidding guys. 

**Bakyura:** Did they kill you?

**Mai:** Someone killed Kanra! Yes!

**Kanra:** I’m alive!!! (⋋▂⋌) But someone BROKE INTO MY HOUSE

**Taro Tanaka:** Did they take anything?

**Kanra:** No!! But my house! Oh my gosh do you think it’s that killer! (〇o〇；)

**Taro Tanaka:** Killer?

**Bakyura:** What are you on about this time?

- **Saika** has Joined the Chat-

**Bakyura:** Hey Saika

**Saika:** Hello. How is everyone?

**Mai:** Someone broke into Kanny’s house, sadly didn’t kill her (ノ_<。)

**Kanra:** I’m serious! -`д´- How have you not heard about it?

**Saika:** Are you talking about that person who was killed a few hours ago behind Raira? 

**Chrome:** Yeah, I saw that. They got their heads smashed in with an air conditioner. It’s on channel 3 right now.

**Bakyura:** I’m sure it’s not  _ that  _ bad I’m gonna go look

**Chrome:** Good luck with that.

**Bakyura:** ...man. That is  _ sick.  _ I think I’m gonna throw up.

**Mai:** Ooooh! This is getting super scary~ 

Maybe they’ll go after one of us next

**Saika:** Please don’t say things like that. I feel so bad for the man hurt. I think he was a janitor, right?

**Mai:** Doesn’t matter, he’s mince meat now.

~~O~~

 

Somehow, hunting for a god was even harder than she thought.

She was close to calling on Izaya again, of burying her pride too far beyond reach to ever dream of getting it back to get some answers, but she doubted even  _ he  _ would know what to do here. 

Celty, for the moment, was impossible. Shinra’s room was locked at all times, she couldn’t find any files on her, his computer was password protected, and Anri didn’t have the slightest clue how to begin to crack it. Maybe if she could find someone to do it for her, she’d have something to go off. But at the moment, waiting for the answer to just drop out of the sky was the same as signing Mikado’s death warrant. 

So, she went with the next best looking option. The ‘Virus’. 

People were well aware it wasn’t a virus now, though the name seemed to stick. It’d gotten so common people stopped getting offended when it happened. Couples made agreements that if it hit, anything that happened stayed within the half an hour it worked. That was it. 

She’d been searching on chat rooms, books, asking every single one of her children, but nothing had come. Now she was sitting at lunch, buried four books deep in the mythology section, praying to a god that wasn’t kind enough to show up so she could stab it.

“Aww, doll, someone so sweet shouldn’t be spending lunch alone. Mind if I?”

She felt her pulse race, eyes go to flash red, before she pushed it down. Surprises never ended well. “Of course.” Her eyes stayed down, shoulders relaxing. Silent, fall away.

“Come on, sweetheart.” She felt a nail gently brush her cheek. “Like, my eyes are up here.”

“Sorry.” She felt her cheeks go red, eyes drifting up, taking a deep breath- and get assaulted my  _ color.  _

That color couldn’t be natural, it couldn’t be  _ real.  _ She didn’t think a red that saturated existed. His hair looked like it’d skinned a maraschino cherry then dyed it with fire. Something about him just didn’t seem... _ real.  _ His lips were the same rosey shade, cheeks flushed, eyes large and green, like they’d been painted on. Everything around seemed brighter, lights casting a halo on the table and books. It made her uncomfortable, it made her flush with heat-

_ What was going on?  _

The voice didn’t sound real either. Like someone had ripped a siren right from the sea, like she was hearing it underwater, muffles of all it’s harsh edges  and-  _ what was she thinking? Why was she thinking like that? _

_ Who was he? _

“Don’t worry honey, I’m used to the staring.” He took her hand, kissing the knuckles and she felt her everything flood with heat, like she was on fire. “Fiyero’s at your service, dear. Lovely name to match the lovely face?”

Fiyero. Had she heard that before? She thought she recognized the name… “Anri Sonohara.”

“Sonohara...I can’t say I’ve met one before, but I like it. Sounds like a song. The whole name does.” When he stood, she felt herself standing with him. Saika was strangely silent. 

Wait,  _ why  _ was she silent? She was never silent.

The guard was up, now. Anyone who silenced Saika was a threat. “You know,” Fiyero continued, reaching up and stroking her cheek. “You have amazing eyes.” Was it sad that, besides Mikado, she couldn’t remember the last person who complimented anything other than her breast size? “And such a nice smile- oh, and you’re reading too? Sweet, smart, beautiful; you’re the whole package, aren’t you.”

Saika, where were you? Where were you; because Anri  _ needed  _ her right now to be strong. She was terrified and flushed and something was wrong but right all at the same time. 

She had to say something, anything, just to stop him. “I like your necklace.”

“Oh? This old thing?” It was a nice piece, gold arrow piercing through a ruby heart. “Just a gift, got it when I joined this cute little club. It’s pretty though, right?” Fiyero hummed, reaching down onto the table. She hadn’t even noticed he’d put a bouquet there when he first arrived. “Well, like, I don’t know if you have boyfriend or girlfriend or someone else looking out for you, but, since they made the mistake of leaving such a perfect girl alone, I think I’ll take my chance.” He held out a single rose, blood red, same shade as his hair and his lips. 

With a long gulp, she took the flower, giving a bow. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me for it,” he laughed, high and light like a bell and it made her stomach turn in freezing knots. “Come on, sweetheart, why I don’t I walk you to class? Like, the bell’s about to ring.”

“I have study hall next period.” It was a lie. But she needed to get away from him, now. 

“Boo, like, too bad. I guess I’ll have to take my leave then.” She felt the lips on her cheek before she saw him move. “I’ll see you soon, Anri. Don’t forget about me.” 

He turned, with another light laugh, the scarf fluttering behind him as he walked. 

As soon as he was out the door, she felt her legs give out at the table, vision begin to clear. It was like everything had gone into oversaturation, the world was dulling back to what it was before. 

_ Fiyero.  _ She’d heard about the new boy, whispers around the campus, that within the past week he’d been there he’d dated half the popular crowd. She could see why he would appeal, but, that didn’t explain why he would silence Saika. Mikado didn’t silence Saika, she knew, or she wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place. So it couldn’t simply be she was falling in love or attraction; those would be easy.

_ Saika? Please talk to me? _

Nothing. Still nothing. Sighing, she took a deep inhale of the rose, feeling her head start to swirl. It was really nice, actually. Maybe she was overthinking this; Saika went away for some other reason. And she really did love this rose...yeah, she was going to keep it. With her forever. Who needed Saika as long as she had that, right?

_ Anri, something is wrong. Very wrong.  _ But she didn’t want to let go of the rose. She  _ couldn’t  _ let go of the rose.

Who cared if something was wrong! Something had been wrong her entire life. So what, no, she was going to keep this, because it made her happy and oh the colors were coming back, she needed more, she took a deeper breath, every nerve coming alive. She needed something, what it was she didn’t know, but she  _ needed  _ it more than air-

“Oh, my god. Someone gave that  _ freak  _ a rose?”

“Wait, is that one of  _ Fiyero’s  _ roses?”

“No way! He wouldn’t give one to her. She probably stole it.”

“Well we can’t let theft go unpunished, can we, girls?”

The three girls with fairy wings started to surround her, one yanking back her chair, making her fall to the ground, as another grabbed her arm, trying to yank the rose away. 

“Oh look, she’s sad.” The girl stepped on her hand, pinning it to the ground. “ _ Pathetic. _ ”

Anger poured through her.  _ No.  _ That was her rose,  _ her  _ rose. “Don’t touch it!” She held the stem tighter, the thorns cutting into her palm and making her vision tint black. 

She hated those girls. In that moment she knew she  _ hated  _ those three girls more than anything else to ever exist.  _ Hate hate hate hate hate.  _ If she could draw Saika she would have, would have cut them to pieces for daring to touch what’s  _ hers.  _

With strength she didn’t know she had, she ripped out of the girl’s hold, fists clenched, blood dribbling onto the floor.  _ Hate. Hate. Hate.  _ Everything was growing more and more colorful, being outlines in harsh lines of black, like a child first learning to draw. It was painful, made her head throb, pain scream where Saika usually flowed, but she didn’t care because all she could feel was rage and anger and  _ hate.  _

The world was a blur of color and black as she moved. There was blood on her knuckles, breath coming out in pants. When she finally came out of it, all three girls were on the floor, knocked out, bruised and bleeding, and she had her rose in her hand, clutching it to her chest, shaking, covered in red, not all her own. 

All she could feel was hate. Heavy black bile forming in her gut. She had to go, get out of there, now. She grabbed her bag, moving to walk away, when a hand grabbed her ankle and she fell, toppling down, the rose falling into a candle, burning up in a bright black flame. 

Like that she felt her energy drain. The color faded away, what was bright before now seemed monotone. Her breath was slow, light, as the fire sparked. She couldn’t look away, couldn’t move. 

_ Run.  _

Saika was back. It was the first time she’d ever heard those words from her, and the words, hate and love was replaced by one thing.  _ Run.  _ So she did, she grabbed her bag, struggling to her feet. Her hands were shaking as she left the books on the table, shoving on her glasses and bolting out the door. 

_ Run.  _

She didn’t know where she was going, what she was doing, all she knew was she had to get away, from that rose, from those girls, from that boy with fire-red hair. She needed to get away, now. 

_ Run.  _

Her feet fell from under her somewhere around Raira park. The cut on her leg was burning, wound opened again, head hanging down. She wanted to cry, never get up.

“You’re Sonohara, right? Still trying to kill a god?”

Everything went still. The blood pumping in her ears stopped and replaced with a high pitched screech as she looked up, shivering. She could swear she recognized the woman, long brown hair, warm eyes and green turtleneck. “Y-You work for mister Orihara.”

“Yeah.” She crossed her legs, sitting on the bench, arms crossed. “‘With’ is a better term. For implies I care if he succeeds or not.” She offered a hand, down to where Anri sat on her knees. “You didn’t answer. You still want to kill a god?”

_ Run. Run run run run run-  _ Anri took the hand, standing on shaky legs. “Why?”

“Because I want kidnap one. We have a deal or not?”

_ Run.  _

“Yes,” she said. “And I think I know where to start.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! New chapter up :) I hope you all liked it! The start of the god-hunter dream team. 
> 
> In case anyone's wondering, my icon is actually an old picture I drew of Fiyero.
> 
> So, what are the roses, really? Why did Saika go away? And who's this mysterious new killer? Keep reading to find out! Don't forget to comment what you think and leave a kudo if you liked it. Have a wonderful day/night!


	14. Logging On

 

**~~O~~**

**New Room Created: Raira Love!!**

**Admin: Rosey**

**Rosey:** Hai!~   Welcome to the group chat!!!~~**~~ Isn’t this site like super duper uber cute?

- **Taro Tanaka** entered the Chat Room-

 **Taro Tanaka:** Hi? Is this the link that was posted in the lunchroom?

 **Rosey:** Yep!! You’re so smart.:) Like, I totes thought this would be a super cute to way all talk and stuff~ But like, none of you know who each other are, so it’ll super spooky and like secrety and stuff. ;) Making my therapist proud!

 **Taro Tanaka:** Oh, I see. I do really like this site.

- **Jungle** entered the Chat Room-

 **Jungle:** I am here against my will.

 **Rosey:** Oh hush you. XI You should be happy I invited you.

 **Jungle:** You invited everyone! You took my camera and won’t give it back unless I join your stupid chatroom.

 **Rosey:** Aren’t I smarticle~ :D You’ll thank me when you have friends. For once.

- **Robin**  entered the Chat Room-

 **Robin:** Hye, ym fingres ar ti bg fro teh bttuons fo ym phne

 **Jungle:** Kick them out.

 **Robin:** Wyh!.2

 **Jungle:** That’s why.

 **Taro Tanaka:** Let’s not bully anyone, Jungle! I think they’re saying their fingers are too big for their phone.

 **Jungle:** Who cares?

- **ICU** has Joined the Chat-

 **ICU:** H-Hi!

 **Jungle:** Did you just stutter? In a text based medium?

 **Rosey:** Stop bullying our guests!!!!!

 **Robin:** Yeah  
This Jungle guy seems like a real dick.

 **Jungle:**  Forgive me for having a brain. And wait-   _ICU._ As in   _Intensive Care Unit?_

 **Rosey:**  Awww! That is so super duper uber cute <3 I care abot you too  **< 3**

 **Robin:** You care about me too, right  
Rosey baby?

 **Rosey:** Course <3

 **Jungle:** ICU is where people go when they get shot, idiot.

 **ICU:** I don’t mean to be rude correcting you, I’m really sorry, but I meant it to be Instruction Cashe Unit, it’s a technological term

 **Robin:**  I’d stop judging people on their names   _Jungle_

 **Jungle:** Oh look, someone learned to type.  
Wait, none of you know what my name is for?

 **Robin:** I took my brother’s computer  
Why would we?

 **Jungle:**  ...  _The Jungle?_ No one knows it?

 **Rosey:** Oh oh oh! I know I know! It’s that super cute Disney movie!!!!

 **Robin:** Oh shit  
I love the Jungle Book!

 **Jungle:** The Jungle. Upton Sinclair.  
Most important Muckraking novel in the history of American literature.  
Changed the way we view political narrative.  
Reason why your meat has rat hair and not an actual rat.

 **Robin:** Never heard of it

 **Taro Tanaka:** I think I saw that in World History. It’s the one about the meat industry, right?

 **Jungle:** Thank GOD.

 **Robin:** Hey, I’ll be right back  
I heard something weird downstairs

 **Jungle:** You too? Like screaming?

 **Rosey:** OMG, like, I totally heard that too. Do we all live near each other????

 **Robin:** Everyone stay where you are I’m going to see what’s going on

 **Rosey:** OMG that was the hottest thing I’ve ever heard

**Jungle:** What a hero. If you can’t tell- that was sarcastic.  
Why don’t you just call the  __ police?  
Robin?  
__ Robin?  
Hello?

**ICU:** I think he ran out.

**Taro Tanaka:** I hope he’s okay... Maybe someone should go after him?

**Jungle:** We don’t know who he is; how are we supposed to  _ find him? _

**ICU:** I’ll go where the noise went.

- **ICU** has left the Chat-

**Jungle:** Is everyone here some stupid self sacrificial hero?! Just call the police!  
ICU?  
Hello?  
Rosey I swear to god if you go after them too  
...Rosey went after them.

**Taro Tanaka:** Maybe you should too? It sounds bad, maybe you shouldn’t be alone.

**Jungle:** Trust me. I can protect myself.

**Taro Tanaka:** I hope they’re all okay

**Jungle:** I hope they’re all not.

- **Robin2** has Entered the Chat Room-

**Robin2:** Sorry I’m using someone else’s computer now and forgot to log out so I couldn’t use the same name  
No one else come out here  
Let me handle this  
Nobody else come down no matter what

**Jungle:** Too late.

**Robin2:** What?  
Poor Rosey  
I don’t think she’ll take this well….

- **Robin2** left the Chat Room-

- **Rosey** Entered the Chat Room-

**Rosey:** There’s a dead body  
Oh my god  
Oh my god there is a dead body in my building  
Oh my god oh my god oh my god

**Jungle:** Get back to our room, idiot!

**Rosey:** Oh my god I’m going to have to get a therapist for my therapy  
Oh my god  
Oh my gsjgafgagfdhlGF

**Taro Tanaka:** Hello? What’s going on? Is everyone alright?

**Jungle:** Yeah, I wrestled Rosey’s phone away. She’s crying underneath a blanket now.

**Taro Tanaka:** Is there really a dead body?

**Jungle:** I could go down and check, but I don’t really want to deal with police.

**Taro Tanaka:** There a reason for that or…?

- **ICU** has Entered the Chat Room-

**ICU:** I don’t think I’m okay  
He had his head cut off  
Then smashed  
There was blood everywhere  
Sorry sorry just everywhere

**Taro Tanaka:** Do you think it was the same guy as the last murder?

**ICU:** L-Last murder?

**Jungle:** The one who got his head smashed in behind Raira? Maybe. But how’d they get in here?

**ICU:** Do you think they’re going after Raira students?

**Taro Tanaka:** I don’t think so, the last person was a janitor. Maybe it’s related to that Mayfield thing going on.

**ICU:** Mayfield?

**Jungle:** Jesus, do you know  _ anything. _

**ICU:** Sorry! Sorry sorry I don’t get out much I can stop I’m sorry

**Taro Tanaka:** Jungle, I know you’re probably stressed right now but you really shouldn’t take it out on everyone else

**Jungle:** Idiots. All of you. Ugh, if you want to get anything done, you have to do it yourself. Feel free to debate who’s killing to death, I’m going to deal with this so  _ I  _ don’t get my head smashed in the middle of the night.

- **Jungle** has left the Chat Room-

**ICU:** I’m going to go ask around on some other chat rooms if they know anything, if we have to leave the building.

- **ICU** has left the Chat Room-

**Taro Tanaka:** Does that just leave me?  
I’m going to ask around too  
I don’t like that so many people are going after Raira students  
Just don’t do anything drastic okay? We don’t want more people getting hurt

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for not being on as much, school has been crazy.
> 
> I hope you all liked the new chapter! I'd love to hear who you think everyone is. I promise they're not all going to be so short- the next chapter will be up really soon, I just had to break it in two otherwise it would be a four thousand word chapter and mess up the timeline a bit. I needed to write them all together before I posted, too, since they're over a very short period of time in fanfic-time.
> 
> I should be more active this weekend! I hope everyone has an amazing day/night. Thank you again for commenting, reading and kudoing- it's been a hard week and reading the kind words always make me feel better.
> 
> Also sorry if this chapter has been posted and deleted a hundred times. Every time I try to post it it deletes all the text?


	15. Mentor

 

“Hey, Aoba, can I ask you something?” 

“Of course.” Aoba kicked a stray flower on the ground. There were plenty of them littered around, roses and daisies from proposals to the dance next week. “Anything you want.” 

He unwrapped his chopsticks. “What we’re doing isn’t working. We beat them in fights, but they keep coming back, and now there’s this Mincer person who’s probably working with them. Why do you think?”

Aoba leaned back on the park bench, the sun shining down on his hair, casting a halo of light in the blue. Sometimes Mikado wondered about the color, if he dyed it for the gang, or the other way around. “I don’t know, sir. Maybe the same reason people stayed with the Yellow Scarves when everything started to crash down. Loyalty.”

“But you need a reason to be loyal, don’t you? Why would you stick with a group that’s outnumbered, outclassed, immoral...”

“The same reason people stay in the Dollars, I guess.”

Aoba’s smile twitched when the chopstick broke in Mikado’s hand.

“ _ They  _ are nothing like the Dollars.” Mikado refused to let them be. The Dollars had their issues, ones he was well on the way to fixing, but  _ Mayfield… _ “How do we stop them if no matter how many times we push them away, they come back?” 

Aoba crossed his legs. “You show the people inside something so horrible they want to leave. Or just take it over yourself.” Taking a sip of his drink, the only thing Aoba had for lunch, every day, he leaned his head on his hand. “Chop the head off the snake. Organizations like them are always cults of personality.”

“Watch the rats it’s eaten gnaw through the stomach and let it burst.” Mikado smiled, easygoing, as he held out his bento box. “Take some, you know it’s not healthy to skip meals. You need to be more responsible.”

The flicker in Aoba’s eyes was always worth the flips in tone, to him. At first he did it to make a point, now, maybe it was a little bit for fun. “I’m alright, sir. Thank you for offering.”

“That’s an order.” Mikado pat his head, before taking a few pieces and holding it to Aoba’s lips. “Here comes the airplane.”

The look on Aoba’s face clearly said  _ he’s lost it.  _ Mikado was starting to wonder if he had. Then again, maybe he wasn’t the only one, since Aoba took the bite. “About Mayfield, I was thinking-”

“Don’t talk with your mouth open.”

“...” Aoba gave a deep sigh, swallowing, before looking up again. “You said have the rats eat it from the inside, right? What if we plant the rats?”

“You mean, spies?”

“We get some guys to join Mayfield, ones not in Raira, and have them climb up the chain until we found out who the head of the snake is, then chop it.”

Mikado chuckled, as he scooped another bite. “Who’ll be our spies?”

“Not Neko. He’d be caught in a minute.” Aoba tapped his fingers along the bench’s arm. “If the rumors are true and they really are stationed in Shinjuku, Gin wouldn’t be much help either, he’s too well known there. Houji’s a terrible liar, but he has family in the area, goes to school there, so they might not connect him with us.”

Mikado paused a moment, before smiling. “I think you should do it.”

“The Natari’s also are a good ch- really?” Aoba’s eyes were wide, shocked. He always looked like a kid when he did that. “You don’t think they’d recognize me?”

“Not with a wig, a change of clothes.” He put his hand on Aoba’s shoulder. “You’re the best actor we have.”

“Sir, I’m not sure. Don’t you need me here?”

“I need Mayfield  _ gone. _ ” 

“Well, if you order me, I can’t say no. But what-”

That was when a flash of gold crossed Mikado’s vision. He tensed, ducking back on instinct, though the flash moved faster than his eyes could process. “Are you alright?”

Aoba was swaying, clutching onto the handlebar like he was trying to crush it, eyes shut, wheezing. “Sir, I don’t think you should stay.” His hands were shaking. 

“Aoba, I’m not going to leave you when you’re sick. Come on, let’s get you to the nurs-”

“Mikado,  _ go. _ I mean it.” His breath was getting lower, coming out in fast pants, heat radiating off his skin as he clutched his neck. “ _ Now. _ ”

“I told you, I’m not leaving you.” He grabbed Aoba’s wrist. “Now come o-”

There were lips against his own. Soft, though the force behind them wasn’t, desperate and warm, arms were wrapped around his shoulders before he could breathe. Aoba’s eyes were closed, a hand tangled in his hair, trying to tug them closer.

He didn’t pull away. He couldn’t; he couldn’t do anything. He’d never done anything like this before, he’d never kissed before, been this close to someone before, he felt himself being pulled down and drowned in a way he couldn’t say was  _ bad.  _ Actually, he could say felt good. Really, really good, one of the best things he’d felt in his life. His own eyes slid shut as he carefully began to kiss back, relax- 

Wait a second. This was Aoba he was kissing. Not Anri-  _ or Masaomi,  _ a dark part of the back of his mind supplied- but the little schemer who was using him, definitely planned to dispose of him; who he was, like it or not, in a game of who-can-get-what-they-need-out-of-the-other-first. Without Aoba, the Blue Squares would never follow him. And without Mikado...well, he wasn’t quite sure what Aoba was getting out from him, but whatever it was, he hadn’t gotten it yet, and Mikado would fight tooth and nail to make sure he never did.

With more force of will than he knew he possessed, he pulled himself away, trying to ignore how Aoba’s whines sounded just like how he’d always dreamed Anri’s would. What was his head doing?

“Mikado, sir, please, don’t go. Don't leave me alone.” Aoba’s eyes shot open, glowing gold, lips puffed and red-  _ Mikado snap out of it.  _ It was the virus, it had to be, so this had to last at least half an hour. He needed to keep him tame for at least half an hour. 

Or make a run for it. Be a coward and make a run for it, leave Aoba here to fend for himself. That would be the right answer, actually, prevent anything from getting in the way of the game, the fragile business deal they had masquerading as mentorship. 

Mikado kissed him again.

Just to distract him, of course. Not because he was imagining Anri in his place. Not because he was there and willing and Anri was off fighting whatever monster of the week she chose over him, kept choosing over him, because she was leaving him behind too. Because he knew it, felt it every day, when he ate lunch alone in the courtyard, too ashamed to call on Aoba, because Anri found some grand adventure of her own she wouldn’t bother to tell him about, the same that cut her leg and made her fight and hide from him so he couldn’t even ask _why._

He was kissing back as a distraction, pressing him back against a tree because he didn’t want him running off and getting himself killed until he was done with The Dollars; not because Masaomi was god-knows-where with god-knows-who; not that it even mattered, because he’d never get in a situation like this anyway, because Masaomi had bigger and better things to settle on than his awkward loser of a childhood friend, a friend, and only will ever be a friend no matter how many cities he razes and raises from the ground up. 

He held his hands to his hips and swallowed his gasps and pleads to use against Aoba in the future; not because he was sick and tired of being the one pining, for once he wanted someone begging for him, that he could leave high and dry, alone and miserable to find bigger and better things.

The bell rang, students filtering back into the building. But Aoba didn’t move and  _ fuck it,  _ yeah, he was going to use that word, he could, because he was an adult and  _ tired  _ of being the innocent one. He didn’t have to censor himself, not in his own head. For the rest of the half an hour Aoba was Anri and Masaomi in his wildest dreams; he’d find some way to explain it later, to pass off the blame, because he was growling deep in his throat and Aoba melted beneath it, tugging harder at his hair, back arched off the tree and pressing back against him. Aoba was stronger, physically, never a doubt in his mind, but Mikado was able to gather his wrists and ‘pin’ them above him anyway. As he attacked his neck with bruises and bites, he was leaving his mark. A brand. Like the scar in the center of Aoba’s palm; that he was tied to Mikado, blood contract. He couldn’t leave. Mikado wouldn’t let him.

Aoba didn’t get to leave because Mikado was going to have one relationship in his entire life where he’s not the one sobbing in the middle of the night.

The twenty minutes passed in a blur of hands and nails and fists, Aoba had his waist straddled, scratching up his sides as Mikado left dark purple marks all along his hips. Clothes never came off, but when Aoba’s face grew flushed and threw himself back like he’d been shot, Mikado figured they may as well. 

“S-sir, I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

He had a choice here. That was blatantly obvious. Admit the past thirty minutes were of his own free will, manipulate the manipulator for his own gain, not have to eat lunch alone because his friends were far too important for naive little Mikado. Cut pretending like he didn’t want the excitement, that all he wanted was a quiet little life with Anri away from the city, admit to Aoba and himself that he  _ wanted  _ the danger, the thrill of something strange and new and borderline painful. 

Or lie. “It was the Virus.” Mikado wiped his lips, leaning back on his elbows. “It’s alright, I was under it too.”

“Still, I shouldn’t have.” Aoba wiped his lips with a shaky hand, wincing when a finger brushed over a fresh bruise on his neck, laughing as he stood. “Feel bad for your future girlfriend, if this is what you’re like.”

“You didn’t seem to hate it.” Mikado brushed himself off of dirt and dust and tried for the guilt too. There was something different in Aoba’s voice and he knew it was his fault. “We’re going after Mayfield, soon. Both of us.”

“Sir, are you sure you want to go in too? You know you’re more of a leader than a fighter- what if things get physical?”

“Then I have you to protect me.” He pat Aoba’s head, couldn’t help but notice the bruises complimented his hair nicely. 

“Come on, let’s hope we missed the whole period.”

Mikado let his tone flip, happy, caring.  _ Naive.  _ Back to naive. “Aoba! You can’t, you have to keep good grades, okay?”

“Right…” Aoba walked ahead, and Mikado’s eyes were once again drawn to the marks on his neck. 

They really did look nice on him, matched by his bruise-blue hair. On Anri or Masaomi, he would have just gotten angry. They would be staining the perfect pictures he had, innocent childhood dreams and crushes. 

But on Aoba, they made him real. Something hard and durable he could push and shove and break that would always come back because he was just as extraneous to all of this as he was. 

~~O~~

 

“Teach me how to fight.”

There were many things Shizuo expected to find at his door in four in the morning. Jason was not one of them. 

“What?” He tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes, bleary, unfocused. “Do you know what time it is?”

“I need to learn how to fight.” He looked like he’d been hit by a train, hair at all angles, black under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept all night, brass knuckles on his hands and- was that  _ blood  _ on his shoes. 

“Shit, kid, get inside.” He grabbed him by the shoulder, throwing him in, locking the door behind him. “You don’t go walking around with blood on your shoes unless you’re  _ asking  _ to be framed. How did you even know where I live?”

“My roommate’s weird.” He stood straighter. “Teach me how to fight.”

“Stop  _ saying  _ that!” It was too early for this shit, way too early. He grabbed a cigarette from his nightstand, lighting up, closing his eyes, leaning his head back on the wall. “Why do you need this  _ now? _ ”

He could hear Jason’s breathing, hard, rushed. “Someone was killed in my building, right below me. I heard them, but I wasn’t fast enough to save them.” 

“Oh.” It was one of those. “Hey, kid, I’m flattered you came here and all but, I don’t think I’m the person to talk to about this…”

“My mother’s dead. My father’s the biggest asshole you’ll ever meet, my brother is  _ crazy,  _ my manager couldn’t care less if I live or die, and the person I love won’t love me until I can beat you in a fight, so,  _ teach me. _ ”

In that light, it hit him that people would probably think Jason looked more like he could be his little brother than Kasuka. Kasuka who he’d failed because he was too unstable, emotional. Because he’d been selfish and violent, the exact opposite of a role model. 

“...sit down.” Shizuo pat the bed, and Jason sat as Shizuo went into the kitchen- as if it was a separate room and not just a refrigerator and sink in the corner of the stamp sized apartment- and poured him a glass of milk. 

“...you don’t happen to have a beer, do you?”

“Drink.” Jason took it without comment. “I’m about to sound like Simon, but fighting’s not the way to go about this. His death isn’t your fault.”

“It doesn’t matter.” The hand tensed around the glass, and Shizuo suddenly knew the fear Shinra must have had when he let him borrow his cups. Though Jason didn’t have his strength, maybe he was on enough adrenaline to do some damage. 

“Then why do you want to learn? To get stronger? ‘Cause that’s not getting stronger. Getting stronger is learning how to walk away.”

“I don’t  _ care  _ about getting stronger, I just-...” Jason sighed. “When I was kid, I was watching TV and this boy came on, my age. I saw him and I just knew I...I loved him. It was a stupid little kid crush at first, but then I got to meet him at a meet and greet. He didn’t even touch me, just blew a kiss in my direction and I just, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.”

Shizuo rubbed his shoulders gently. Well, as gently as he could. “And?”

“And what? He was famous. He was some big shot son of another celebrity, the whole Deamorte family’s legendary back in the States. But still, just. He was always there, when no one else was. People think that since I can’t feel pain, it means I can’t feel  _ anything,  _ but they’re wrong, I do, I know I love him, I love my brother even though he’s somehow dumber than I am, I love my mom even though she’s not here. Things do hurt, just not physical things. I don’t know- that’s not the point, ugh. I met Fiyero, he goes to our school now, and he said if I can beat you, he’d go on a date with me. That’s all I’ve  _ ever  _ wanted. No more fight clubs and betting pools or running after some guy half my height because he’s an asshole. I just want to go away somewhere no one lives, I don’t know, Colorado, get some cabin high in the mountains with Fiyero and never have to hit anything again.”

Well shit. He couldn’t just let this go, could he? " What’s tomorrow, Saturday?”

“Friday.”

“So you got school...”

Jason sat up straighter. “I can skip?”

“You’re not skipping. Nothing comes before school, alright?” The things he should have been telling Kasuka instead of chasing Izaya around town with a stop sign. He took Jason’s phone. “I’m giving you my number, call me when you’re out, I’ll take you around to work.

Kasuka’s eyes used to light up like that, before he learned to push them down. Because of him. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” He lit another cigarette. “You can’t do whatever I do, ripping out stop signs, but you’ve got those.” He clicked his knuckles together. “Which should help.”

“You think I can beat you one day?” 

God, this kid. “Yeah. I’d be a crappy teacher if you couldn’t by the end of it.”

“Thank you.” Wait. Was he being hugged? Looking up- never going to stop freaking him out that he’s shorter- he saw, yeah, he was. “I’ll make you proud...what do they say here? Senpai? Sensei?”

“Don’t.”

~~O~~

“Who did it?” Knock. “Come on, I know you're in there.” Knock knock. “I'll bring more sushi, but seriously, who did it!?”

Just on time. 

Izaya opened the door, a fuming, bloodshot-eyed Eliot on the other end. “Who did what?”

“You saw the chat.” Maybe he was letting him get a little too comfortable, as he brushed past him into the apartment. “Who did it? You have to know; it was Jason, right? You saw the guy’s head, only Jason could do that. Maybe Shizuo, but he wouldn’t go after a student, right?”

“Maybe.” Izaya shut the door behind them. “I wasn't lying, I haven't been paying much attention. Trying to sort this out.

“What?”

Izaya flicked on the lights. The room was in disarray, files scattered along the ground, lights hanging from a thread, puddle of water pooled at the entrance. 

“...” Eliot’s muscles were tense, as he walked around the room. “How did they get in?”

“You’re the thief. Tell me.”

It was fun having an admirer. Though, Eliot probably thought of himself as a prodigy, brushed past the fact he was little more than an intern and convinced himself he was some special interest case. It wasn’t something common to Izaya, having someone who looked up to him- in the literal and metaphorical sense. His sisters didn’t care for him, nor him them. In school, he’d been feared, but never  _ admired.  _ He was a cautionary tale of the evils hidden in the shadows of Ikebukuro. But here was this little boy from the other side of the world, running right from the pan and into Izaya’s fire, loving him all the while. It must be some form of poetic justice. Going by the name he’d picked- Karma, so dramatic, aggressive, most likely to compensate for what he actually was- he’s certain it wouldn’t be lost on him, either.

“Here’s a hint: they didn’t climb up the side of the building.” He took his seat at the desk, watching over, legs crossed at the ankle, kicked up. “You’re still the only one to do that.”

“Well duh I am, there’s no way you could without my hook.” Oh, he loved humans! Even when saying something clearly meaningless, even insulting, they adored thinking they were the only ones to lay claim. 

Eliot walked from window, moving to the bookshelves instead, scavenging through, always overlooking the obvious in favor for the flashier show. “Colder.”

“I’m working, okay!” 

“I never said you weren’t.” He tapped his nails against the arm of the chair, lips quirked into a half grin. Adorable, the way he was rushing around, desperate for Izaya’s approval. He was trying to hide it, clearly, by the annoyed mutterings of wasted time, but it was clear as day. 

Finally, he got to the door. “You got a digital lock?”

“Warm.” Eliot’s face pulled into a fight frown, head tilted as he tugged at the head of the keypad, as Izaya continued. “You know, it took Namie a whole five minutes to figure it out. The police still haven’t.”

The keypad’s cover was off. “So they hacked in. Opened the cover, short-circuited it with water, reset the password and broke in.”

“Ding ding ding, we have a winner. Only two minutes behind Namie.”

“It’s three in the morning, give me a break.” Eliot stomped back inside, slamming the door. “Now who killed the guy in our building? Are they going after Raira kids-”

“Why do you care?” He shifted his stance, legs falling back under the table, instead leaning his chin in his hands. “They didn’t go after you. Is there someone you're trying to protect?”   


“Of course not.” Eliot shifted his weight, back and forth, back and forth. “But there’s cops patrolling the building. And if you want me to keep…”

“Are you sure that’s all you're worried about? If that’s the case, I could just take it back.”

The way the blood drained from Eliot’s face showed what a fun little toy he’d found after all. “You don’t need to.”

“I trusted so.” Alright, enough with the teasing, time to see what side of the line his ‘prodigy’ stood for. Standing, he leaned over the desk, just slightly. Give him his statue to admire. “I don’t know who killed the man in your building, just like I don’t know who broke in here. That is your job.”

“W-what?” 

“You don’t think I got where I was just delivering sushi, do you? Information isn’t cheap.” He walked, steady steps resonating around the walls he’d designed to do just so. “Do you know why that is?”

Eliot gulped. “It’s hard to get. If anyone could get it, they wouldn’t have to buy it.”

“Good boy.” Now he saw on the desk, on the same side as Eliot, looking down to him. “An informant’s job is to find things. Think of us as detectives  _ a la carte.”  _ He waved his hand, popping the T. “We find all the facts, solve the mystery, and sell them back the chapters in bits, let the client piece together what’s left. They pay more, they get more; but in the end, we’re not in the dolling business. We’re in the knowing business.” 

He pat the space beside him, noting the reverent pause, before Eliot took the seat like it would sting him, like he was in shock to be allowed into such a holy place. “Alright, and?”

“What does a weapons manufacturer want more than anything?”

“War.”

He pat his head, which was met with mock annoyance so clearly a front it took everything in him not to break the image he’d constructed and laugh. “We make weapons. Our weapons is information. And that’s why we have to know everything, because you can’t divide up the weapons in the way most likely to make sure the war never  _ really  _ ends unless you know what they all mean when you add them together.”

“...so you’re saying I need to learn how to solve this...so I can try and manipulate... _ you? _ ” 

“You really are good at this game.”

“You want me. To try. And manipulate.  _ You _ .”

“See what price you can get. Consider this your final exam in Being Izaya Orihara 101.”

Eliot bit his lip, eyes darting around, back to the window where the outline of his cut in the glass was still etched. “And if I fail?”

“Sorry, we don’t offer retakes.”

The moments passed, the clock ticking with every second. “How long do I have?”

“Until the information stops being useful, of course.” Izaya stood, keeping his back to Eliot, rolling his neck, letting the hood of his coat flounce as he walked, light, airy, careless. Prove just how deeply he knew Eliot couldn’t form a threat to him. “Depending on how you do, that could be a day, could be a year.”

“And what if I pass?” Eliot stood this time, chin up, back straight, as he Izaya could see from the mirror. 

“We’ll find out, won’t we.” He opened the door, smiling back. “Good luck. Feel free to use my databases, files, Namie, if you think it’ll do you any good. I’ll even give you this.” Izaya took a card from his pocket.

Eliot took the card as he walked past. “There’s two codes on here, what’re they for?”

“Good luck.” 

He shut the door, smiling, as he walked back to his board. This was so fun, all so much fun! One phone call and he turned half Ikebukuro into a battle zone. There’d been a few new added pieces to his game, with all the new players. “Black checker pawn aligns with black knight one.” He slid the piece across. “White queen fleas Shogi corner.” Another slide, as he plucked a new piece from his bag. “Red checker pawn’s all alone, stepped out of white king’s corner.”

He grinned. “Your move, Ace. Drive your damsel in distress however you see fit.” He laughed, twirling the flash drive between his fingers. "He’ll just come running back to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. It's still over 4000 words. I tried to shorten it but they all needed to be in the same chapter or it wouldn't make any sense. So...sorry.
> 
> Anyway, twice in the same day updates! See, I told you it'd be up sooner :) (Honestly it was supposed to be up three hours ago it just took way longer than I thought to assign characters game pieces)
> 
> I hope you all liked the chapter! The fallout for the murder in the building is surely heating up. Who's the Ace? How will Aoba and Mikado's mission go? Will we actually get a happy scene with Jason and Shizuo for once? Find out!
> 
> I hope everyone has a wonderful day/night! Don't forget to kudo if you liked it and comment what you think! And yes, I did steal that from youtubers. Sorry. 
> 
> (Also, anyone like what I did there? Had each chapter start with dialog, have each part about being a mentor and dealing with their charge from the point of the view of the mentor? No? Eh? Sorry. Shutting up.)


	16. Divine

“Kiss kiss fall in love!”

Kyouhei sighed. “Are you two really singing that again?”

“Of course.” Erika looked up from where Walker had her in a dip. “We’re celebrating the gift the great Yaoi gods have granted Ikebukuro.”

“I want them to grant me with a gift.” Walker spun her back up. “Some super moe doll who comes to life, falling helplessly in love with me while escaping evil minions, and I’ll protect her with my fire powers!”

Erika put her hand to her forehead in a fake swoon. “No, Izaya comes into Ikebukuro, looking to commit some dastardly deed, but Shizuo senses him with the strength of his attraction, and comes racing. However, just as Izaya is about to escape, he feels the warmth of true love wash over him and jumps into his arms, ‘Oh Shizu-Chan, I love you so much, please take me and let me be your sex kitten!’”

The group went silent.

“...what? It could happen.”

“No.” Saburo put his hand on her shoulder. “It really couldn't.”

“You guys don’t know anything!”

It was a nice day out in Ikebukuro. Sky clear and blue, van parked a little while away in a free spot created by running over a tree. They’d found a lot more of those around, lately. Not to mention; the shipping gods had truly shined down upon Ikebukuro, and Erika couldn’t be more thankful. She’d even invested in a camera since her phone was running out of storage.

“Sushi! Sushi is good! No love virus, unless wanted!”

“Oh, hey Simon.” Kyouhei waved.

Simon pushed his fliers, before his grin grew. “Friends! Welcome. Good day for sushi.”

Kyouhei held out a hand, before shaking his head, putting it in his pocket. “Actually, I am pretty hungry. What about you guys?”

Walker scratched his chin. “I don’t know, we’d have to be fast. They're having a sale on Pokémon Special doujinshi at Manga Madness!” He pumped a fist in the air. “Luckyshipping for life!”

“No way!” Erika hip checked him to the side. “Originalshipping’s practically canon.”

“Do you have any pairings that aren't Yaoi?”

“Of course! Yellow and Blue.”

“That's Yuri.”

“We be very quick.” Simon opened the door, smiling as they walked in. “Good food, good speed!”

As they were lead to their table, Erika heard a beep on her phone, followed quickly by everyone else’s. “ _Please post any information you have on the Mayfield gang in the new forum._ Oh! This is some super secret undercover plot!”

Walker nodded, sitting down. “Yeah! They need some spies on the inside.”

“Two friends against the law, trying to make right!”

“They work their way up the ladder, all the way to the top, and boom! Assassination!”

“But only after they gain their trust.” Erika bopped Walker’s nose. “Sleeping with the enemy?”

Saburo frowned, scrolling through his phone. “Everyone’s talking about Mayfield. Where did these guys even come from?”

“I don’t know.” Kyouhei shrugged, hands still stuffed in his pockets. “Somewhere out in Shinjuku. I know the story; some guy who got rejected from Raira cause he couldn’t afford tuition decided to start it out of spite, so they go around robbing people from the private schools and businesses around here and donate it, but I don’t know if I buy it.”

No. Way. Erika squealed and grabbed Walker’s hand, who did at the same time. “Robin Hood no Daibōken!”

”I doubt it.” Saburo twirled his chopsticks between his fingers. “It’s just some guy with a victim complex thinking he’s making the world better by hating people who’re luckier than him.”

“Like _someone_ when Ruri happened to find a new guy.” Kyouhei smirked, taking a sip of his water.

Saburo flushed red. “That’s completely different! He’s nowhere good enough for her.”

The sushi came out, Erika dipping her fried chicken roll into some ketchup. “I think that it would be amazing, going around, fighting evil rich overlords.” She took another bite, when the doors opened up, Simon patting the back of the person who walked in.

“Sit down.” Simon led him to a seat. “I have special for you, Happy Roll!”

“Yeah, thanks. I’ve got to deal with a kid today, I’ll need all the strength I can get.”

Shizuo was there. Kyouhei was there. Suddenly an idea sparked in Erika’s mind. “You should go say hi.”

Kyouhei gave her a flat look. “Erika. What are you planning?”

She smiled. “Nothing, Dotachin. Why would I be planning something?”

“...” He sighed. “This isn’t going to end well.” He stood, walking over to the table and Erika barely hid her grin. She couldn’t hear them, but Kyouhei took the seat across from Shizuo, talking. A new ship was born. Turning around in her seat, she crossed her leg. “Who would top? Shizuo or Kyouhei?”

“Shizuo, he has a chronic need to care and- wait no, Erika, you can’t ship Kyouhei with Shizuo! I thought you liked him with Izaya, anyway?”

Huffing, she popped another piece between her lips. “You have no imagination, Saburo. I am a multishipper.”

The doors opened again, this time a taller blonde guy coming through. He actually looked kind of like Shizuo, red faced, panting, probably just came from running. “I’m here, I’m ready to learn how to fight.” And he was loud.

Shizuo waved him over, and he walked to the other end of the shop. Erika couldn’t hear what they were saying again, but she leaned in to try, not catching much other than, “I’m Jason Starkweather.” So that was Jason? She’d heard around about someone like him, fighting under the name Brass. Hmm, who did she have to ship him with? Someone high school range, he’s big and strong so she needed someone tiny. He looked like a calm guy, was supposed to be flirty, so someone high stress. Some oujidere maybe, though if Jason was shy-

“Shit, I’m late, look had to stop by a friend’s to pick up a package, I was running around all-...” He was adorable. Absolutely adorable, big eyes wide, little barrette, freckles scattered against dark skin, like they’d been drawn on.

“...”

The whole shop went silent. The hair on the back of Shizuo’s neck was prickling, Jason was standing up now, fist wrapped around a spoon. The tension was thick, heavy, soup.

The _sexual_ tension.

“That’s it!” Her chair squeaked back. “He’s perfect!”

Simon came out a moment later, putting a platter on Shizuo’s table. “Oh, wonderful! Everyone here; I can introduce to Nephew. Eliot-”

Jason was charging at him, Eliot hooking onto the top of the door frame and launching himself up just in time to have Jason ram headfirst into the door, toppling through. He dropped down, landing on Jason’s back, before running out, stepping on his head, Jason taking off after him, shouting, “Come back _Bambi_!”

Shizuo groaned, rubbing his face with a napkin, slamming down a credit card and running out. “Get him into an alleyway! With no hooks!”

Then went Simon. “No fighting! Fighting is bad!”

“...Erika,” Saburo said slowly, but Erika didn’t hear him, not really. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“They have a complementary color design!”

“Erika, no-”

“They’re a total red oni blue oni!”

“Erika, please-”

“It’s foe yay!”

“Erika, I’m begging you-”

“I’m recording this!” And so Erika was out next, chasing down the procession of property damage on the Ikebukuro streets, almost running over a woman with glowing red eyes in the process.

~~O~~

  
“Ms. Yagiri, are you sure this is...moral?”

“No, I’m sure it isn’t. Now pass me the scalpel.”

Anri didn’t know how she got there. Actually, that wasn't true, she did, but, it was more that she couldn’t believe that she’d actually gone through with it.

She’d known from the start that in the process of trying to save Mikado she was going to have to do evil things, monstrous things. That she would have to distance herself from the people she’d grown to think of family; become good friends with bad people instead.

But everything was going too fast. In a month- was it even a month?- she’d gone from hiding in her closet when an unarmed burglar came, to selling her blood to demons. To cutting strangers, fighting in the library, sitting with Izaya Orihara’s assistant in an abandoned warehouse about to dissect a living woman.

All because she’d gotten scared.

That was the funny part, wasn’t it? That it hadn’t taken some big, life altering event. That nothing happened from three gangs going to war, from fighting a slasher, meeting a Dulahan. What toppled everything down wasn’t some grand battle of good and evil. It was a hand on her shoulder pulling her away from a car; not even some big yakuza car, just a tiny electric car she hadn’t seen on the street.

But she was going to do this. She had to do this. So she handed over the scalpel and closed her eyes.

~~O~~

Aoba was confused. That was not a very common, nor comfortable, state for him to be in, but yet with Mikado it seemed to be an absolute constant.

Ever since he first met the boy: confusion. Confusion to why he’d not want to take ownership of the Dollars; why he wouldn’t just create a ‘terms and agreements’ page and reissue passwords; why he flipped personas with no rhyme or reason. Why, despite the fact Mikado obviously loved the danger of it all, he was looking to put it to an end.

Most of all, Aoba was confused to why he liked it.

Aoba didn’t like very many things- people especially. The Orihara Twins were one, though, sadly they came with the stipulation of Izaya, so he was never going to be able to pursue that safely. There were his gang members. Though, _like_ was a bit of a stretch there too; not dislike would be a better term. Most of the rest of the world was ambivalence tinged with a heavy dose of annoyance.

But then, there was Mikado.

“Hey?”

He shook his head, trying to clear it. Like that was going to happen. “Sorry, Mister Ryugamine.”

“Hey, I’m your brother Taro now. Right, Hiro?”

“Of course.” Aoba didn’t know why Mikado seemed so insistent that Mayfield was the end of the world. From where he stood, that damn Virus was ruining his. It was making him think, question things he should never have had to question. 

Mikado was different. Fundamentally different- it felt different and that confused Aoba, more than anything, which made it dangerous.

The train stopped, and they were in Shinjuku. The Dollars chat had been helpful, always was. Honestly, Aoba considered the Dollars much more of an information network than any sort of real gang, or even club, but he had a feeling if he voiced that opinion a pen would go somewhere much more painful than his palm.

Their disguises were great. He had Neko make them, who always had a knack for costuming, whether he’d admit it or not. Aoba’s hair was covered by a light brown wig, that matched his eyes, makeup done to make him look a bit older, tanner, heals hidden in his boots to give him an extra couple inches, scruffed up and dirty. Mikado he’d gone all out for, dyeing the tips of his hair green with temporary ink, combat boots and leather jacket, green contacts. It should have been laughable, thinking of Mikado as some ‘bad boy’ harem anime star, but…

_It looked really good._

He was doomed.

After a half an hour of searching, he saw where the group was met up, all dressed in flowering greens. Alright. This was it. He cracked his neck and he knuckles, shoulders back, relaxed as if he was bored to be there, but shy. That was his character, at least. Odd combination, he believed, but he didn’t come up with it.

“Hey.” Mikado kicked the back of one of their chairs. “You guys with Mayfield?”

“Yes.” The person stood, and when she turned he realized it was a woman. Mikado didn’t tense, not outwardly, but Aoba, who’d learned how to read the minutiae of every smile of his to avoid a heart attack, knew instantly, something had happened between them. She adjusted her bonnet, looking down through tinted glasses. “Are you here to make a claim?” Claim?

His voice lower and deeper than he’d ever heard it and it took everything in him not to shiver. “We want in.”

“Really?” She lowered her glasses, green eyes showing through, blonde hair tied in tight curls in the back. “What made you decide?”

“They wouldn’t let Hiro in.” Mikado clenched his fists, teeth grit. “He’s smarter than any of this fucking brats in that place, but they wouldn’t let him in.”

“Raira, I presume?” She tapped her long, painted nails on the edge of the chair. For a woman supposedly working for a gang promoting the poor, she certainly didn’t look it. The dress was white, clean, with pink flowers hemming along the bottom, bloomed along the sides, some pinned into her hair and dusted along the bonnet. Everything was prim and polished to an almost glossy edge that made her stick out like a sore thumb among her company; boys in ratty, hole-ridden hoodies and girls in skinny jeans filled with holes probably not put there by design. “What’s your names?”

“Taro.” Mikado cracked his neck, elbowing Aoba in the side, who bit his lip, eyes traveling down.

“Hiro.”

“Well.” She walked, her heels clicking on the ground, eyes roaming them up and down, judging. The boys and girls with the flower pins and jackets hollered. “We don’t have any rules against new entry. But I do feel the need to warn you, we’re not like those other gangs. We don’t care about loyalty or family here, Mayfield isn’t something for your pride. It isn’t for you. We’re not the Dollars, either, where you say you’re one and you’re in.”

Mikado clenched his fists. “Whatever it takes. I want to get them back, make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

“Alright, here.” She pulled a flower off her hat, laying it in Mikado’s hand. “Bring that to the field outside West District tomorrow. We’ll let our leader decide if you’re worthy.”

“Who’s your leader?”

“We don’t trust that information to strangers.” She sat again, legs crossed at the knee. “I’ll tell you he’s very capable, experienced, and has great council.”

One of the girls blew a bubble with her gum. “Yeah, I heard Izaya Orihara’s totally his bitch.” The girl next to her slapped her hand, with a reprimanding “Language.”

Izaya. Orihara. Izaya Orihara. Somehow everything he finds himself in, Izaya’s mucky fingerprints just had to stain.

The woman gave a small, refined smile. “He does background checks on all our members, yes, to make sure they’re who they say they are, and fall within our guidelines.” Her eyes fell to Aoba. “How old is he?”

Mikado cleared his throat. “Sixteen.”

“I can speak for myself,” he said, in a small voice, hands in his pockets, radiating that he definitely could not.

“Congratulations, he just made the cut. Starting next week they’re accepting seventeen and above. Last week for any sixteen year olds to join.” She offered her hand, which Mikado took. “Be there, tomorrow.”

“We will.” Mikado turned, grabbing Aoba by the wrist, harder than necessary, as he dragged him along. As soon as they were out of sight, he saw it, the little twitch of a smile Mikado got when he was walking right into something he was nowhere near ready prepared to deal with.

Aoba realized, right there, that he’d happily walk in with him.

~~O~~

She checked the mirror one last time, parting scarlet lips, fiery hair falling to mid back, snapping to get her errand boy to tie her corset of gold and red the slightest tighter, waist pulled to an unnatural dip. With a laugh, she closed her eyes, letting the gold fill behind them before licking her lips, shooing him away and standing behind the blood-colored curtains, ruby shoes clicking on the golden set.

The lights dimmed, music cued, all for her. Just for her. Every eye already trained on the microphone set on stage, even before she was behind it; she could feel the power rush as she tipped her head back, soaking it in, every reverend word and whisper.

_“Everyone, welcome to the stage, our beautiful, divine, leader and lady.”_

The curtains fell. Even without the lights yet on, her gold eyes glowed in the darkness.

_“Maria de la Rose.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry if I'm not as bouncy in this as usual. Grade panic. At least homecoming's tomorrow so I have something happy to look forward too.
> 
> By the way! If anyone's curious where I got my whole wrap up, come back next time ending formula from, it's Chuggaconory on Youtube, his Kid Icarus playthrough, my favorite letsplay to date.
> 
> Anyway, so Erika finally found a new OTP, tied with her twelve other OTPs, Anri makes bad decisions, and Aoba is #confused. What will happen next? Who is this mysterious Maria and what is she the leader of? Find out soon!
> 
> And thanks again to everyone commenting and kudoing! I know I said this last time, but it's been a hard week so every comment has really given me a pick me up when I needed it most, same with the kudos. Have a wonderful day/night everyone! And happy homecoming!


	17. Shots Fired

It had been Namie’s idea. To save the little shred of innocence Anri had left, it was Namie’s idea.

It had seemed so simple at first, she almost didn't find it wrong; gathering her single children, filtering out the oldest and youngest groups and setting them up in the basement of some building Anri wasn't allowed to know the name of. They, and the guards posted at each entrance, were tucked away in hazmat suits, floors and walls covered with roses and hearts, fire blazing in the center like an offering. Then, one by one, they took them into the back. 

“How did you get one?”

“A client tried to give it to Izaya. I sent her away at the door.”

The rose was hidden away in a glass coffin, perfectly still, plump. It seemed to glow in the light, even though it was only red, the same unnatural shade as everything Fiyero, it seemed to spark with golds and blacks. “Oh.”

Namie slid it through the door, where the older woman was strapped, legs to the chair, arms behind her back. They’d been cycling through to test what happened. Strength increased, they’d learned that after the third set of broken restraints, speed as well. Skin sensitivity skyrocketed, heart rates soared, and eyes began to glow either gold or black depending on the person, who they were partnered with. 

This woman was a different test. Every other, they’d had eyes open. But here, there was a blindfold. 

Namie carried in the rose, setting it in the woman’s lap before walking back to the viewing room. One of the guards lifted the glass, rushing back to the entrance, before wisps of sparkling dust filled the air around the rose, carrying up and around the room. 

Then, the screaming started.

Anri felt her stomach drop, shutting her eyes, trying to block away the sound, pained sobbing and crying, begging for someone to release her. 

“Interesting.” Anri heard scribbling of pencil on paper and knew that she really had made monsters for friends. “We haven’t had this before.”

“We need to stop.” The screaming was still going, ringing in her head, her ears. Saika was screaming right alongside her. Hadn’t stopped since she shook Namie’s hand. “We could kill her.”

“If she was going to die, she would have by now.” She waved to one of the guards. “Check her vitals, draw some blood, I want to see what’s in it.”

“Yes ma’am.” The man pushed open the door, walking out into the testing room. He pressed the needle into her arm, as she thrashed, before everything went still. 

“I-Is she dead?” Did Anri kill someone? Was she going to have to live knowing that she kille-

The world exploded into motion. The bonds broke on the straps with a long, banshee's scream, as she dove at the man in the hazmat suit, clawing and scratching, biting down hard on the fabric that the man began to shout as well. She looked wild, feral, hair hanging down in loose strings in eyes swirled of black and gold, laughing, moving to clawing at her own skin, rolling on the ground. “I love you I hate you I love you I hate you hate hate hate hate  _ love,  _ I love you Airi, hate you Airi, love you, hate you, kill me, kill me, someone kill me!”

Anri’s mouth went dry as she put a hand on the glass. “Isn’t her name Airi?”

“Yes. It is.”

It took four of the guards to pin her down, laughing and crying, soaking the blindfold, calling for them to kill her and make her a god. “We need to take away the rose.”

“No. We don’t.” Namie followed them in, picking up the rose from the ground, face drawn into a tight, neutral expression as she spoke through the hazmat radio. She plucked a petal from the rose, dropping it to the ground before walking to the woman, kneeling beside her. She peeled apart the layers of the flower, a glowing red dripping from the petal and into the woman’s wound.

The screaming stopped. For a moment, the screaming, the laughter, the sound all stopped the world went quiet except for the breathing in her ear from radio static. 

Then the burning started. Anri saw it. She tried to look away, pull back into her head and Saika but she stood and watched as the woman’s skin began to burn and fizzle, and the screams grew louder than before, hysteric as she looked to the screen with vitals. “She’s boiling alive,” she whispered. “Namie. She is boiling alive, we have to stop.”

“I wouldn’t even know how.” Namie dusted her hands, eyes trained down on the woman. Even through the yellow screen, Anri shook from the coldness in the stare, more lifeless, more devoted than she’d seen for any of her children. “Someone might try this to Seiji. I wouldn’t put it past Mika, to try and make him love her completely.” She took another rose petal. “Whatever this is.” She tore it, letting it drip into the woman’s wounds, and the screaming grew louder. “Is what’s causing all of this.” Humming, she turned to the viewing room. “Come out here, I want you to try Saika.”

“Saika isn’t very happy with me right now.” But her feet shuffled out regardless, and everything was worse in the harsher, clinical light, without a wall barrier to muffle the sobbing. Close enough she could see the tears soaked through in perfect technicolor as her own eyes turned red. “Child.”

The woman stilled again, panting, red swirling together with the blacks and golds. “M-M-Mother...Mother…” The sobbing turned into a smile, one much sharper than her sword. “I love mother. Mother is doing this to me. So I hate mother. So I’ll kill mother. And love mother, mother,  _ mother.”  _

The men in the hazmat suits gulped, as the plastic on their hands began to melt away. “Mother’s here. I can hear her. Mother please,  _ mother. _ ”

She couldn’t take this, not anymore. The wounds on the woman’s body had all healed, but her skin was cherry colored and the smell of plastic gas was filtering through the room even with her own suit. She grabbed the rose from Namie’s hand, shoving back into its glass, and pressing the button on the wall.

The air was all sucked out at once, Namie gasping for air, before it all rushed back, knocking Anri off her feet. The woman was knocked out cold, but the heat had stopped, finally. 

Namie was on her hands and knees, gasping for breath. “You  _ ever  _ do that again-”

“Look.” Anri pointed to the woman who began to rise. 

She looked beautiful.

~~O~~

Nothing _. _ Days searching and she still had nothing to show for it.  _ Better call it in for now. _

She’d been searching all over for anything related to the Virus, and, in turn, her head. She didn’t know how she knew, but, somehow, there was no doubt in her mind that if she discovered what was behind the Virus, she’d find her head. 

It was all so achingly familiar to her. The lovestruck looks in people’s eyes, the rose petals dancing in the air; it made her more uncomfortable than she’d been in her codified life, like something was itching just under her skin.

“ _ Chase him into an alleyway! With no hooks!” _

Oh no. That didn’t sound good. Shooter shot forward skidding to a stop at the edge of the street. Erika was taking pictures, Walker with his arms around her waist, trying to drag her back. Two boys were fighting to the side, one with brass knuckles, the other swinging a...grappling hook?

She should probably stop that. Shizuo was rushing in too, which meant something Izaya related was in the area. She went to park, to split them up, when the voice rang out. _ “Good job, use the flip I taught you.” _

This was not good.

The fighting all stopped, heads snapping in the direction of the end of the alleyway. “Oh, Shizu-Chan, you’re here too? Place your bets. I have mine on my boy. He seems to be winning anyway.”

Assuming ‘his’ was the one in the fur coat currently boxed into the wall, he definitely was not winning. At least, he wasn’t, until he took the pause to slice his hook into Shizuo’s boy’s side, who started to shout. 

This wasn’t good. Shizuo had a stop sign in hand, Izaya his knife, ‘Bambi’ had his hook pulled out and hanging at his side, as Shizuo’s boy growled and clicked his knuckles together. Celty revved the engine, racing into the center of the impending fight, hoping to stop it-

Then she saw it. She swore time stopped. She wasn’t moving, not consciously at least, as the gold trailed past, scythe forming in her hand, sweeping in a massive arc. Shizuo yanked his boy out of the way, throwing them both to the ground, Izaya’s hooked onto a window and pulled himself up out of the way, as Izaya himself hopped over when it came. 

The little golden arrow toppled right by Izaya’s feet.

It was too familiar, too  _ natural,  _ and it made her smoke puff out in a massive floom. Rage. She didn’t know why she felt it, but she somehow knew that golden arrows was linked to her feeling  _ rage. _

Izaya shouted something, some quip, but she narrowed in on the sound of fleeing footsteps instead.  Shooter neighed, taking after the footsteps.  _ You know what you’re doing, don’t you boy.  _ Even without having sight of the source of the steps, she knew it was them, she could feel the trail of gold fizzling behind. 

Finally there was some visual as she dodged through the crowd of cars, the tip of a pair of boots, sounds of heavy panting. So they weren’t used to being on the run. The figure turned into an alleyway, and Celty spun Shooter to match, darting in as well. If only she had a mouth so she could scream out for them to stop.

She had a full silhouette now, the figure was a bit shorter than her, back covered with a red cape that hid their hair as well. They ran themselves into a dead end, and she heard the gulp as she pulled Shooter to a stop right by them. Trapped.

At least, she thought so. She certainly hadn’t expected the figure to sprout wings. But sprout wings they did, popping through slots in the back of the cape, they took a run at the wall, foot nudging in the gap of a brick as their wings came out and took to the air, faint golden dust coating the ground.

She wasn’t letting go that easy. Leaning forward, she twisted the handles and Shooter took to the walls, weaving between the windows, chasing after the flying figure, which suddenly turned and- 

_ Arrows.  _

There was a bow in their hand, and the first arrow shot at Celty’s helmet, hitting dead center, knocking it clean off. The next went at her heart, but Celty banked Shooter left, leaving it sailing past. The next, this one black, went for her bike, but Shooter seemed almost used to it as he jumped off the wall, neighing, before attaching himself.

They reached the roof now, the flying figure perching just out of reach in the air as Celty clenched her fists. Maybe she needed a different approach. She took her phone, typing,  _ [Why are you doing this? Who are you?] _

She couldn’t see anything of the figure except their bow and cape, which covered their face besides the mouth, leaving an expanse of blinding white teeth pulled into a sinister smile. Their head flicked left.

No. Oh no. Please no. Her shoulders tensed, but she turned in the direction.

Jason and Eliot were neck and neck, hanging off a balcony. Izaya was atop a building, flipping back onto a beam, hands in his pockets as Shizuo dove at him with a lamp post. 

“ _ [Don’t, you don’t know what this is going to do. Stop, right now.]”  _ She shot her shadows, desperate to try and capture the figure in a web, anything to stop what was about to happen-

It was too late. The arrow fired, and Celty was certain Ikebukuro would never be the same again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is probably not a great idea, posting twice in a day, but I finished up the scene and I just had to. Next chapter is the chapter where the event happens that made me decide that I, for sure, wanted to write this fanfic. Before that idea I figured 'eh, it's something stupid, I'll forget about it in a day', but then that idea happened and I _had_ to write this all.
> 
> Probably too much hype, setting myself up to let people down.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all liked this chapter! Anri is having trouble coping with being the bad guy, Namie is very used to it, and Celty has a run in with a mysterious arrow shooter. Who did he fire at? Will it hit? Find out next time on Durarara x2.5! Have a wonderful day/night, and don't forget to kudo if you liked it, and comment what you think! I'd love to hear your guesses on who's the arrow's gonna hit.


	18. Mistake

Falling. That’s what hit him first. He was falling, hand reached out to try and grasp a ledge, missing for the first time in twenty-three years of life.

Izaya was never afraid of death. The concept of going away never terrified him. It was the idea of wha came after, much like how those afraid of heights are really afraid of falling, of nothingness, that made his stomach turn and gag until he was willing to turn a city into a battlefield to avoid it. He’d take hell over not existing. He would happily take over hell.

Izaya was rather sure he would have preferred hell.

In retrospect, things would have gone so much better if Eliot had been the first one he laid his eyes on. Eliot adored him, even if he wouldn’t show it. No matter what Izaya did, he’d still be a god in his eyes. Bad, sadly, the angle the hook caught his hood and yanked him back onto the roof meant he was behind and out of site.

Jason would have been easy. Jason was a mindless dog, even more than Shizuo was. Even if it went physical, it wouldn’t mean a thing with him, it’d be hormones and adrenaline-fueled. He was such a lower lifeform Izaya wouldn’t even feel it as sex, to something so clearly inconsequential. There would be no history, no future, Izaya would simply lose a pawn in his game, replace him with someone else; probably his brother.

But Jason was trying to push Eliot off as Eliot pulled him on, so Izaya couldn’t see him.

The world froze around him, skin burning up hot, like someone had dipped him in boiling water then dumped him in the Arctic. Someone had tied his lungs, so he couldn’t get more than a shallow breath, as the world went grey except for Shizuo; Shizuo who he’d never seen so bright and strong and beautiful, burning like the sun and oh god it was like everything he’d ever felt had been narrowed in on one narrow focus, _Shizuo_.

Later, he would come to wonder why that didn’t feel more alien than it did.

He couldn’t hear, not really. Sounds hit him like he was underwater, shadows cast on the ground, as his hand held painfully tight to a pole sticking from a beam, trying to push it back, control himself. He’d made a mistake, a horrible mistake, brushing aside this Virus as nothing more than a slight hiccup in an otherwise closed system of his plot.

“Flea? Come on, louse, I can’t hit when you’re looking like that. Izaya? Why the fuck are you looking at me like that?”

He had to fight it back. He had to, he wasn’t going to fall to something stupid, inane as this. He wasn’t going to give up-

_But Shizuo looked so good and he was burning. Burning burning and cold and he needed Shizuo to strip away his skin and lay him bare with nothing left inside him so he couldn't feel anymore._

His feet were moving before his head could, mind drowned in golden dust, a second prick hitting the back of his neck, and there was no stopping himself, there was no control, thought. Shizuo swung a sign at him, and on pure instinct, something he’d banished long ago, he jumped atop it, landing on the red as he yanked Shizuo in by the collar.

Heat, cold, pressure, sensation, they spun and swirled in him, hate clouding around his chest as something he dared not call for what it was took his head. It hurt, it was all teeth and nails as the hatred in his chest tried to make a move, but hands took his wrists, gripping to the point they almost broke, as he laughed against his lips. “Come on Shizu-chan, you love me, we all know you love me, tell me you love me right now, now, _now._ ” Or he would die. He would die and take Shizuo down with him so they could spend eternity burning in hell together.

Actually, that sounded pretty nice.

There was another pair of hands at his back, tugging hard as they could, but he didn’t budge. Shizuo was frozen in place, probably from shock, the sign dropping from his hands. Izaya had to go to his toes not to break the contact, nipping, biting down hard on the lip in front of him, laughing when he drew blood.

Through the technicolor, he saw a flash of white wings flutter overhead, another dart of gold, this time right into Shizuo’s side. With that he found himself being kissed back, just as hungry, as violent. Shizuo threw a punch and Izaya slashed his knife. It was bloody and brutal and painful and better than either of them could ever imagine.

Shizuo’s eyes were glowing behind his glasses, which suddenly were the most hated thing in Izaya’s life. He snatched them off, slamming them into the ground, stomping down, grinding them in with his heel. Anything blocking Shizuo’s face was suddenly evil, disgusting, needed to die, and he’d kill it if he had to.

He’d kill it and he’d love it.

His back was pressed along the cold wall of concrete, seeping into his skin, sparking against hypersensitive nerves. “I love you Shizuo I love you I’ve always loved you I love you-”

“Fuck, stop talking, do you ever stop talking.” Lips were back on his, effectively shutting him up. “Fuck I hate you why do I fucking love you fuck you _fuck-_ ”

There was some rope around his arm, trying to yank him away, but Izaya easily cut it without looking over, because if he did, he’d be forced to slit the throat of whoever was trying to pull him back. Shizuo slammed his elbow into someone on his other side trying to separate them.

Then, there was black around his waist. Something yanked him back, away from Shizuo, and it felt like a balloon had inflated in his chest, about to burst out and explode on the ground from the pressure building in his body. The same was wrapped around Shizuo, who was kicking like a charging bull and no time more in his life did Izaya want every ounce of his strength focused on _him._

Two boys were rushing around- _Eliot and Jason,_ some part in the back of his mind supplied that no other part payed attention to because everything was _Shizuo Shizuo Shizuo-_ as the shadows pried them further and further apart, tearing himself apart. His head spun, painful throbbing pulsing every one of those shortened half breaths that seemed to be all he could draw.

They were dragged down, off the building, into the street. Izaya threw his knife at the black figure, Celty, it was Cety, but it sailed right past. Shizuo was still so far, he heard him shout for him, Izaya shouted back. He’d kill any of them, to get to Shizuo he would, he’d kill them to get to Shizuo then kill the two of them to make sure no one could return the favor.

They were going to try and take him away. One of them away.

That wasn’t going to happen.

The knife went flying, landing right in Celty’s stomach. The shadows dropped, and he raced to Shizuo, hands locked together as he raced down the street, into the crowds of people. Some were shouting his name, but Shizuo wasn’t stopping and neither was he. They needed to be away, from them, from anyone who’s tried and tug this apart. They needed to take each other apart in _peace._

They’d found peace in the apartment of some poor woman who left the window open. She’d fled the moment she saw them come through. It didn’t matter, not to them though, at the moment they were alone and together and eight years in the making came to a blinding climax as Izaya was pressed against the wall, legs hiked around Shizuo’s hips.

His hands were rough. It shouldn’t have surprised him, of course the monster would have the scaly reptilian hands, but they were the soft kind of rough, the kind that tugged on the the prints of skin when they brushed over and made you gasp and crave something harder and sharper there to slice away the goosebumps.

There was probably something symbolic about the fact his shirt left him before his jacket, since Shizuo was the one to rip it off. In the same way the pants went before the vest on Shizuo. Stripping away eight years, almost a decade, to its core. What had been the core all along.

_Passion._

Izaya’s hands tangled in Shizuo’s hair, nails biting into the scalp as he gave a brutal tug. Shizuo growled his name, slamming his hand by his head, sailing right through the wall. “I love you.”

They kissed. Harder than before, two ways and desperate. Even with the knocks on the door, shouting and banging, they didn’t pull apart, refused, because passion was there and every bit of it was pulled towards the other like a magnet. Every drop of life in him was tied to Shizuo, where he moved, it tugged him too.

They didn’t stop until the bell tower rang.

Just like that, the spell was broken. The spell was broken and Izaya was pinned to a wall, lip bloody from Shizuo’s bites against it, Shizuo with scratches he was half convinced would turn to scars against his chest and neck.

What had they done?

He found himself dropped against the wall, Shizuo falling back, landing on his elbows, staring back in shock. Izaya couldn’t find it in him to do much more either. The world had froze again, heat all drained away, the balloon deflated. He could breathe fine again, but the amount of oxygen now felt dizzy and empty all at once. “If that’s what you’re like, Shizu-chan, no wonder you never had a girlfriend.” Judging by the anger on Shizuo’s face, his words sounded a lot less hollow than they felt.

Shizuo stood, on shaky legs, and Izaya matched, knife in hand. “ _You._ _You-”_

The doors burst open, Jason and Eliot toppling through. The fact they landed on each other making Izaya go colder than anything else in the room. The fact they seemed so comfortable with it too, like they were friends- _more than friends, they fit much better than friends-_ made him want to hurl.

“Get off me!” Eliot managed to wiggle out from under him, looking up to where Izaya had his knife raised and ready to cut, sighing in relief. “Oh thank god you’re trying to kill each other again.”

“Damn it, I almost got first base.” Jason groaned, crossing his arms. “Think you could make out a little longer? It was kinda hot.”

Then relief flooded him when Eliot’s hit the back of Jason’s head with a grappling hook.

The world wasn’t upside down. Eliot and Jason were still trying to kill each other, they didn’t work together, of course they didn’t. Izaya and Shizuo never would, either. He was still Izaya Orihara, hickeyed, jacket askew and kiss-drunk, he was still Izaya.

When Shizuo focused in on the fight between the two, Izaya took the chance to slip out the window, dropping onto the ground two floors before. He couldn’t help but feel a small smile coming on when he saw the car.

“Hey! Eliot said you might need a ride back.” Jonathan clasped his hands behind his back, leaning against the door. “I owe you anyway. Ever since you came, I’ve been getting calls like crazy!”

“Yeah.” He coughed into his hand, trying to ignore the blood dribbling from his lips. “I could use one.”

As the door shut behind him, he leaned back in the chair, eyes drifting shut. He was Izaya Orihara. He may be bruised, pride and physical. But he wasn’t going to quit, as his phone binged.

[ _How much would it cost me to have you fake a voucher for Taro and Hiro Tanaka to get into Mayfield?]_

And he’d prove it, to himself, right there. [ _A_ _future favor. I’ll even throw in a ride home.]_

“Hey, how would you feel if I said I have a job for you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably didn't live up to the hype, but yeah, this was the chapter that made me decide to write this fic. Originally, I was deciding really between three. Durarara x2.5 (those who were there in the early days probably saw it used to be 'Karma's Swift' or something like that, when Eliot was going to be the main character), one I hadn't named which was going to be if Shinra had never met Celty and instead ended up attatching himself to Izaya in middle school, and Hell Fire, which was Izaya and Shizuo end up killing each other, both going to hell, and trying to take it over together. I actually am probably going to do the other two when x2.5 is done, but this chapter was what motivated me to do 2.5 instead of the other two first.
> 
> I hope you all liked it! I wasn't going to post it until later, but I was too excited. I hope you all liked it! 
> 
> So: Izaya's been shot, Shizuo has regrets, and Jason just wants to get to first base. Will he ever? What's Jonathan's new job? Who is this mysterious figure with the wings? Find out on Durarara x2.5!
> 
> Have a wonderful day/night!
> 
> (PS, yeah, that scene is totally based off the Izaya/Shizuo part of Headhunt opener. I actually wrote out a whole new opener for this story with my friend, I'll post it one day if I can figure out how to word it right as a little bonus thing)


	19. Mayfield Compact

Mikado didn’t count on his connection with Izaya for much. He tried his best to avoid calling in favors, even more so ones that could put either of them at risk. Izaya already knew too much, could too easily share all his wrongdoings with Anri or Masaomi. There was no doubt in his mind that Izaya somehow knew of everything from his phone code to Aoba and his moment with the Virus, do, he tries to avoid creating situations Izaya may feel inclined to leak. But for this, he was willing to make an exception.

“Are you Taro and Hiro Tanaka?” The woman at the door looked them over. Mikado didn’t see the purpose of the door, as it was literally just that. A door, standing up without a wall, in the middle of a flower field, that he could easily walk around. It probably meant something symbolic, something he should know after their first meeting, but it only served to make his blood boil even more. 

Maybe he was taking this Mayfield thing a little too seriously. All they did was try to rob him, Anri hadn’t even been actually hurt, things like that had happened before and Mikado simply let the Blue Squares have their fun on whoever did it. 

But this was different. Mayfield was infringing on his territory. 

Aoba nodded, biting his lip as he showed the fake IDs they got from Gin. The woman looked them over again, but nodded, opening the door and letting them through, even though they could have just walked in from the back.

It was stunning outside, though it reminded him more of his old home than anything else. It was rare to find a spot in Ikebukuro where you weren’t boxed in on every side. Even outdoors, the only place without a concrete wall was up. But here there was nothing from any side. 

Aoba and him were split apart, two people taking gently Aoba by the wrist and placing him in the front row, shoving Mikado off to the main crowd. Why? With a wince, he rubbed the now bruised part of his arm. 

There weren’t too many people there, twenty, maybe thirty at the most, mostly women. It seemed like the gang as a total was mostly women, actually. Or at least an even split. A couple moments later, the woman with the bonnet from the day before went to the front, raising a hand and the crowd went silent. “Everyone here has come forward to one of us, to become a member. To become a flower.”

Was it just him, or did her eyes seemed to focus in on him?

“And all of you have been approved by our recruitment department.”  _ Izaya.  _ “But that does not mean by the end of this, all of you will be members. It does not mean all of you are fit to be.” It was then that Mikado noticed something. She had a British accent. It was faint, but definitely there. “Mayfield is about protecting those who cannot protect themselves. The young and the helpless. You are nothing but a blunt instrument in that pursuit. If you expect to gain any benefit, you expect riches or respect, leave. Now.”

Two people got up and left. 

“If you expect this to be ‘fun’, a place to hang out with some friends and cause some trouble, leave. I’m sure the Yellow Scarves will take you.”

Another three left. 

“If you are not willing to dedicate your life to this, to cut away everything if the time came, to lay down your life to protect those who need protecting,  _ go. _ ”

And they were down to fifteen.

“Alright. That’s more than expected.” She dusted off her hands. “You will now be siphoned off into groups and blindfolded. Do whatever your leader says. No acceptions.”

Well, that wasn't ominous. But Mikado stood still, let the green cloth be tied over his eyes, as he was harshly yanked and shoved. He couldn’t keep track of directions, where he was going, but a couple minutes in he felt the temperature drop, like they’d moved inside a building, and his steps begin to echo. 

Then, the blindfold was lifted, but he found his eyes didn’t have to adjust to the pitch black, as the voice of the woman in the bonnet-  _ Ashna,  _ this foggy memory recalled,  _ Ashna-  _ rang out over speakers. “There is a gun in front of you. Reach your hand out.”

_ What?!  _ He felt his heart drop but reached forward, and sure enough, felt the gun in his hand. It was heavier than he’d imagined it being, in the movies guns always seemed so easy to swing around, but this had heft and weight. “What’s going on?”

“There are guns trained behind you. You can’t see them, but they can see you. If you try to leave, they will shoot.”

What had he gotten into?

“Raise your gun.” Mikado did as told, hands shaking. “If you shoot straight, you will shoot a thirty four year old stockbroker.” He almost dropped it. “Move it to your left.” He followed orders, shaking. “There is a twelve year old homeless boy.” He could barely hear over the racing of his heart. “More to the left, please.” He followed, head spinning he followed. “There’s your brother.”

No. This couldn’t be happening. This just didn’t happen outside of movies and manga, horror stories he’d always hated reading growing up because it always felt too personal, too real. “Please let me go. Let me and Hiro go, we won’t tell anyone.”

“You have two shots. Use them.”  His blood was bursting in his ears. “You have five minutes.” 

The sound cut out to static, and he was left alone, in the dark, a gun in hand and a choice. 

This was a test, he knew it. But he had no idea how to pass. He knew the stock broker had to die, that much was obvious, going by their ‘mission statement’. But then who? Twelve year old homeless boy, seemed best in line with the people to protect. But if he did, they may accuse him of heartlessness, that he should care more for his brother.

What was the correct answer, what would get him in? And were these blanks? Or would the shot actually kill? It made little difference to his choice, but it did to what happened after.

Could he make it by without Aoba? Would the Blue Squares still follow him? Maybe. Depends on if he could lie well enough, say Aoba died to protect him, that his orders were to serve Mikado for life. But even that was a gamble. With Aoba gone, their reason for staying went as well. He doubted any of them held particular loyalty to Mikado, or even as much each other. They were loyal to  _ Aoba.  _

Would they be loyal to a memory?

He made the first shot. The stock broker. The gun went off with a kick, almost knocking him back, as the shock traveled up his arm. It was loud, it  _ hurt,  _ but there wasn’t a scream, so he assumed they were either knocked out, or he missed. But no one stopped him. 

Could he get by without Aoba? Aoba needed to die to get into Mayfield, he had little doubt about that now. Was taking down this one group worth losing his army?

He remembered Anri’s face contorting in fear.  _ Yes.  _

His arm raised to slot three, perfectly still. He needed to pull the trigger. Take a deep breath and do it.

He shot. Face cold and hardened, he shot to kill. Because if Aoba lived through this to tell the tale, Mikado wouldn’t.

The shot rang out again. This time it seemed quieter, as he tilted up his chin, eyes shut. He did it. He killed two people.

For some reason, he thought he would feel something more than this.

When his eyes opened again, the lights were on Ashna was standing above him, looking down. It was then he realized the entire barn was empty except the two of them, hundreds of bullet holes lodged in the walls. “You shot your brother?”

“I love him. But he’s had more time.”

“You didn’t shoot yourself?”

Was that the right option? Was he supposed to shoot himself? “We have a baby sister, someone has to take care of her.”

She offered him a hand, and Mikado took it, fingers laced together as she pulled him to his feet. “It’s a good thing he wasn’t really here, then, isn’t it?”

Why didn’t he feel more relief?

She shook his hand, looking him dead in the eyes through the glasses. “We don’t do the same test on the minors, so we will take your voucher as enough.” From her bonnet, she pulled another flower, with a needle at the tip. “Hold out your arm.”

Mikado did as told.

The needle pierced the tender flesh of the inside of his arm. He bit back a wince, eyes shut tight as he grit his teeth, before a small green cloth wiped away the blood and placed a corsage over the mark. “Welcome to Mayfield, Taro Flower.”

\--

Mikado was in there entirely too long. And Aoba did not like that fact.

He was pacing, close to ripping his hair out. Why did he let them go through with this, this stupid plan that had Izaya’s mucky fingerprints all over it? Was it some test? For him? Mikado? To see if they were  _ interesting  _ enough to go through with it? Izaya did nothing for free, he didn’t take ‘future favors’ because it was well known future favor meant no favor. 

Was he watching now? Through some cameras, through some spies. It wouldn’t surprise him if all of Mayfield was just some new hobby of his to convince kids to go to war with each other over school acceptance letters. He’d done worse.

All he’d heard through the massive barn doors were two deafening gunshot that made him drop and cover his ears praying that Mikado didn’t just die for a grudge.

But sure enough Mikado came out, and the moment he did Aoba pulled him into the tightest hug he’d ever given someone in his life. He’d claim it was to be in character. “Taro, you’re alright, what was the gunshot?”

“I’m alright.” Mikado pet his back and the shivering was entirely to stay in character  _ okay. _ “It’s nothing.”

The woman in the bonnet stepped out, closing the door behind her. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Ashna Flower, second in command, so to speak. I run things for our leader, Midori.”

“Does he know about...this?” Mikado gestured to the barn and Aoba wanted desperately to know what ‘this’ was.

“No. And if you wish to stay on the side of the gun you were, I assure you, he won’t.”

What  _ happened  _ in there? 

“Have a good evening, my flowers.” She tipped her bonnet, turning and walking off into the field, wind blowing the grass at her ankles like an oil painting.

The walk back to the road was silent. Dead silent. Mikado looked more like a corpse than a living man, as the taxi driver opened the door for them, chittering and chattering about this and that. Dead. He looked absolutely dead.

“So, where’re you guys going?” The cab driver hopped back into the front seat of the little black electric Toyota, blonde hair bobbing.

“Raira Academy, Ikebukuro.”

“Alright.” The cab driver pulled the shift stick back. Usually, it was Mikado talking with the random strangers they passed. “My brother goes there, you know him? Jason Starkweather?”

“Yeah, I think I’ve seen him around.” Aoba listening, not really, instead focused on the faraway look in Mikado’s eyes.”

“He’s really cool, though he’s been fighting a lot lately with my friend…” The driver was still talking, but it was background chatter, as Aoba found himself taking Mikado’s hand, giving a light squeeze.

God, he was confused. And it scared him that he was getting used to the feeling.

 

~~O~~

- **Bakyura** has entered the Chat Room-

**Bakyura:** Have you guys seen the photos?? This cannot be real

**Taro Tanaka:** Photos?

- **Saika** has entered the Chat Room-

**Saika:** Hello, I’m sorry for being away for so long.

**Bakyura:** No prob! But seriously, you guys have to check these out, here’s the link.   
[Yaoicentral@ [tumblr.com/ErikaNWalker/Shizaya’sreal!!/](http://tumblr.com/Shizaya%E2%80%99sreal!!/Erikathoughts)9458460 ]

**Saika:** Is that Izaya Orihara? It can’t be.

- **Setton** has entered the Chat Room-

**Setton:** You will not believe the day I’ve had.  
Those pictures are online?

**Taro Tanaka:** They have to be fake, right?

**Bakyura:** Someone has to show Kanra this

- **Kanra** has entered the Chat Room-

**Kanra:** You called~*

-

Izaya shouldn’t have done that.

-

**(Private Message) Taro Tanaka:** @ **Kanra**  Are those pictures real?  
What happened with you and Shizuo?  
Are you together now?

**(Private Message)** **Bakyura:** @ **Kanra** oh man, you really don’t have any shame, do ya’? In front of kids no less! Ha! I’m never letting this go, man

**(Private Message) Mai:** @ **Kanra** great idea Izaya-nii! Sleep with Shizuo so he’ll let us meet Yuuhei!

**(Private Message) Setton:** @ **Kanra** Hey, I know you tend to spread this kind of thing around a lot, people see you like a sort of gossip central, but do you mind keeping this pictures in the chat? I’m worried about the property damage if Shizuo finds out this is all over.

**(Private Message) Kyo:** @ **Kanra** Can I be the flower girl at the wedding?

**(Private Message)** **Chrome:** @ **Kanra** this is Namie, I have your computer. You really humiliated yourself this time, didn’t you? I’ll be sending this to everyone. Unless you have that raise I asked for.

- **Kanra** has left the Chat Room-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry for the late update. I've just been really out of it today, so I'll keep this short and sweet.
> 
> Thank you again to everyone commenting and kudoing, it really helps keep up the motivation to keep the story moving along, and I love hearing what everyone thinks! It's so much fun being able to talk about this fandom with people.
> 
> Anyway, so, we've learned about Ashna and Mayfield, Mikado chose his shot, and Izaya has some regrets. What is Ashna's plan? How will Izaya get his revenge? Find out on Durarara x2.5!
> 
> (Also, if anyone wants to draw the pictures Bakyura liked, I would be eternally thankful.)


	20. A Day in the Life of Jason Starkweather

_ Morning _

Ms. Fukimoto didn’t know what god she offended in a past life, but it must have been a powerful one with a pretty heavy grudge. That was the only explanation for why her classroom had to be ground zero in the war for Ikebukuro not once, but twice.

Maybe it was her fault. She taught creative writing after all, creative arts in general, as well as ran the school news, both of which attracted Eliot Swift as they had Izaya Orihara in the years prior, as it was essentially the class on finding information on the student body. And the former had interested Jason Starkweather just as much as Shizuo Heiwajima; meaning, barely at all, as it was mostly a way for them to bump their failing GPA. 

Her class was most definitely not the only they had together, the various holes in the wall of the gymnasium could attest to that, but it seemed to be the root of most of their altercations. Like today. Which was why Jason and Eliot were given seats on the opposite sides of the room, every possible place for a hook to stick been taken down, and Jason was forced to surrender his knuckles on entry, which she checked with her new top of the line metal detector of which she considered an investment in her safety. But yet, she knew for a  _ fact  _ something, and probably someone, was going to end up broken by the end of the day.

She thanked god they got rid of the barrels in the attic.

“As you can see on screen, Darwin over here decides to take a swing right at the jaw of the strongest man in Ikebukuro over some guy he met twenty minutes prior.” In all fairness, perhaps an assignment where you were supposed to find the ‘most entertaining mistake in history’ was not her brightest idea. She thought it would be fun. Kids would find some cute cat videos, or a puppy running into a glass door. Not this. “Oh, look, he’s being picked up by the nose and  _ boom,  _ right against a wall. But look at him! The idiot keeps going.”

She could see every student in the room begin to slide away from Jason, and she didn’t blame them. “Mr. Swift, I believe this is enough-”

“We haven’t gotten to the best part!” Eliot really looked like the model, adorable child, all innocent smiles, sweet and cute. Izaya had been too. Izaya who she once saw a butterfly land on. He ripped its wings off. “Look, he comes back  _ again.  _ And Shizu-chan-”

Oh no no this wasn’t fair, he said Shizu-chan too. She could not deal with another one who said  _ Shizu-chan. _

Just as Jason was being launched into another building in video, the bell rang. She’d never seen a class quicker to pack their things and bolt out the door. 

Jason had an eerie calm, one she recognized all too well as he made his way up to the front, silently holding out his hand. With the resignation of a death row prisoner, she slid the metal back onto his knuckles, sat at her desk, and dialed security.

The screams started before she punched the first number.

~~O~~

_ Noon _

Jason was gonna kill him. He wasn’t sure if he was before, but now he knew he was going wring that scrawny little neck until it shriveled up and  _ died.  _ “He showed the entire fucking class, he showed the  _ entire class  _ the video of me trying to fight Shizuo, what kind of asshole does that?!”

“Mhm.”

Jason screamed into a pillow on a couch in the media center, where he usually spent study hall with his roommate.“I’m gonna kill him, the brat, he deserves it, right? You agree with me?”

“Yeah.” 

“...Sparky, you alright?” 

“Of course! Sorry sorry sorry sorry.” Sparks quickly shut his computer, pulling off his headphones, red in the cheeks. “I’m sorry, really, I’m sorry.”

No way. “Oh my god, were you watching  _ porn? _ ”

“Wha-” 

Jason snatched the computer off Spark’s lap, laughing. “Dude, I didn’t even think you were  _ able  _ to get horny, what kind of weird shit do you watch?”

“Jason, please, no, can I please have my compu-” 

“You do bondage, right? You seem like one of those hardcore bondage guys. Sweet on the outside, freak on the in.”

“Jason,  _ please,  _ can I have my computer bac-”

Jason opened the top, pouting when he saw he needed to put in a password. “Come on, show me. I’ll show you mine. I found this awesome site-”

_ “Jason Tashiro Starkweather give me my computer right now or I swear to the gods I will electrocute you, film it, and let every television in Tokyo play your screams.” _

Oh. Yeah. Right. No touching Sparks’s computer. Got it. “Just joking around ki-”

Sparks snatched the laptop away, clutching it to his chest like a precious child, before he started to deflate, going back to the tiny, twitchy geek he knew as his roommate. Well, he thought he knew as his roommate. 

Always the quiet ones. “Thank you.”

Jason whistled a little, leaning back on his elbows, as Sparks slid back on the headphones, and watched the screen. “...wait, how did you know my middle name-  _ I  _ barely know my middle name?”

“Internet.”

His roommate was weird.

~~O~~

_ Afternoon _

Training with Shizuo was always the best part of the day. 

The moment school ended, he raced off to Raira Park- Russia sushi was tossed out as a meeting spot for obvious reasons- and didn't leave Shizuo’s side until he was literally kicked off. Things usually went well... as long as nobody commented on the scarf he'd added to the usual outfit. Or, more importantly, the bruises beneath it.

Hate the guy or not, Jason was still going to try and buy that video off Eliot. What? It was hot?...he wasn't the one who recorded it, alright.

“Don't tuck your thumb.” Shizuo took his hand, adjusting his positioning. “You'll break it if you keep it tucked like that.”

Jason swung a punch with the new positioning. It felt, different. But he always noticed his bones didn't seem like dust in his thumb afterward so that was a plus.

The other guy, Tom, twirled a cigarette between his fingers. Personally, Jason thought he was pretty hot too. Seriously, Ikebukuro must be, like, the capital of hot people or something, he didn't even see that many in LA. “Three more stops.”

“Aww yeah!” Jason pumped his fist in the air. “Come on, can we get a bigger guy, no wait can we go to Bambi’s, he's got to have forgot to pay something, I wanna punch him!”

He felt a hand ruffle his hair. “If only it were that easy, kid. If only.”

“Can we take video of this though?” Jason flexed an arm, winking. “I wanna show off for my Fi Fi.”

“...Fi Fi?” Tom blinked as Shizuo sighed. 

“Some kid he's in love with.”

“Oh.”

“Excuse me, he's  _ Fiyero Deamorte _ . Trust me.” He put a hand over his heart with a dreamy sigh. “If you saw him, you'd be in love too.”

“Yo, from what I heard, Shizzy's already taken, dog. He's all on Orihara now.” Some guy with his pants hanging low, a bunch of look-alike friends behind him, walked up to them, crossing his arms at Shizuo. “You're not such the shit now, are ya’, taking it up with the bitch of Shinju-” huh. That was the first time he'd seen Shizuo punch someone without warning them first. Cool.

The guy sailed back, crashing into the side of a car, denting it in. The group of guys looked from the far, to Shizuo, the car, Shizuo. Half of them ran, but the other half pulled out crowbars and baseball bats.

He saw Tom give a prayer from the corner of his eye. This was going to be fun.

As soon as the first one charged, Jason dove in, catching the bar in the hook of his knuckles, twisting it out of his grip and into his own, smile growing when he saw Shizuo’s begin to soften, other fist slamming into the guy’s stomach, position correct. 

Another charged, Shizuo took care of him, one punch sending him flying out of sight. “Keep your back straight,” Shizuo shouted over, as one came at Jason’s jaw. “Don't forget to use what's around you.”

He took the punch, back straight. His mouth was bleeding, but he still couldn't feel anything, so it didn't really matter. Use your surroundings...right! He hopped atop a flower bed, like Shizuo had for him, and slammed his fist down onto the guy’s skull, who instantly toppled. “Score!”

Soon enough they’d all been swept away, and Jason hopped down, dusting his hands, holding it up for a high five. Shizuo had a faraway look in his eye a moment, before his shoulders sighed, and he high fived him back. “Violence shouldn’t be something you’re proud of.”

“Right! But it was pretty awesome though, right? Fiyero’s going to love it!”

Shizuo gave another exhausted smile. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

~~O~~

_ Evening  _

_ “Calcutta, I am a taxi driver in Calcutta, I drive little taxi in Calcutta, I am a taxi driver man…” _   Ugh. No, Jason did not want to deal with that...no, it was his brother, he  _ had  _ to. With a sigh, he picked up the phone. 

“Jason! We haven’t had dinner in forever, come on over, I got glass and everythin-”

“Wait, what? Since when can you afford glass?”

“My new boss got me some! Taxi driving is awesome, they’re giving me so many tips, and I meet all these awesome people and-”

“Alright, fine, I’ll come over.” 

“Want me to pick you up?”

“No!” Before he could get a response, he hung up. Never. Again.

Twenty minutes later, he was running up the steps of the rotting building on the bad side of Ikebukuro his mother would probably would have cried to see him ever step in. She was always a bit snobby that way. Explained why she settled for his shit show of a father; he had the money to make sure she never had to.

He certainly did not throw up a little in his mouth, watching a rat chomp down on a buzzing cockroach, as he kicked on Jonathan’s door in place of knocking.

“Jason!” He found himself pulled into a hug, spun around and dragged inside the stamp-sized apartment. The place was clean, plastered wall to wall in Americana, most of which he was pretty sure wasn’t from this  _ century,  _ but Jonathan was showing off like badges of honor. “How do you like it! I’ve been studying America, isn’t it cool? Oh, and look, I know you’re probably feeling homesick by now, so.” He held up two bags of McDonalds. “I got this for you! It’s fine dining there, right?”

“...” Yet  _ he  _ was the crazy one in the family. “No. That’s not how it works, Jonathan, it’s just not.”

He found himself pulled into another crushing hug. “I missed you so much! You’ve been here a month and we’ve only seen each other twice! I missed my cute little brother-”

“I’m older than you. And taller than you.”

“I’m the big brother.”

“I am  _ blatantly  _ older than you, it’s not even a question- Jonathan, what are you doing?!” He found himself being lifted and carried to the dining room, being dumped in a chair, huffing. It still pissed him off that Jonathan was stronger than him. 

Unwrapping the McDonald's Big Macs, Jonathan put them down on pretty fancy glassware, pouring the coke into wine chalices. “You got any beer?”

“You’re too young to drink.” Jonathan sat across from him, smiling. A constant state of high, no drugs required. 

“I make my living punching guys who’re trying to stab me. Give me a damn beer-”

“ _ Language.”  _ Jonathan threw a fry at his face. “How’s school?”

As if he wasn’t pissed off enough. His fists clenched, hairs on the back of his neck raising. “Awful, because of your little boyfriend.”

“I have a boyfriend?” Jonathan tilted his head. “Oh! What’s his name? I’d love to meet him.”

“...” Seriously, how was he considered the crazy one? “Swift. Swift is pissing me off.”

“Swift...oh! He’s the cute guy with the hat.” Jonathan’s leg was bouncing under the table, some part of him always was. “I’m his boyfriend?”

“You better not be.” He took a bite of the burger and, alright, it actually did fill a little of the homesickness he felt. “Why were you driving him and that freak around anyway?”

“Don’t call people freaks.” Jonathan took a bite of a fry. “And who is the freak?”

He felt a shiver run through him. “Izaya-” wait, no, Shizuo didn’t want him saying his name- “the flea.”

“Oh! The guy who looks kind of like Eli.”

“ _ Eli?” _

“Eliot! It sounds kind of like a deer, right? He looks like one! In that movie you showed me last time you came over.”

“ _ Bambi?”  _

“Yeah, that!” 

At least he knew he wasn’t alone in thinking that, then. “I don’t think you should be hanging out with that crowd, they’re bad news.”

“I’m just the taxi driver, Jason. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Why did he have to say that? Now something bad had to happen, why did he always have to do that? But the mood relaxed. “So, taxi thing, worth dropping out, right? All the cute guys and girls in there, must be hot. Any action in the back seat?” He winked. 

“It is pretty hot, my air conditioning broke the other day, so I taped a bunch of bags of ice to the roof, it was like it was raining.” How were they related? “Oh! The coolest thing happened today! I got into a drag race.”

“Yeah, sur-” He choked on his drink. “ _ What?  _ Oh fuck, how many people did you hit, do we need to call the cops, how much damage are we looking at-”

“It’s fine, this nice lawyer lady came over and said she’d take care of it all.”

Should he question this? He probably wasn’t going to like where that led him. “Had you  _ met  _ the lawyer lady before?”

“No. Why?”

“Nothin’.” He switched over to his fries, checking the clock, tapping his foot. “Hey, I should probably get going, my place is pretty far away, ya’ know.”

“Oh!” Jonathan stood, that terrifying light going off in his eyes. “Let me drive!”

“ _ No. _ ”

~~O~~

_ Night _

- **Robin** has entered the Chat Room-

**Robin:** Hey guys   
Rosey baby you here to keep me company

**Jungle:** Rosey’s not here

**Robin:** What   
I wanna flirt

**Jungle:** If you’re that desperate, just go fuck yourself.

**Robin:** You’d like that, wouldn’tcha, Jungle?   
I could send you some pictures, bet you’d save them ;)

**Jungle:** Gross. And of course,when you’re trying for some pathetic attempt at cyber sex you have perfect grammar.

- **Taro Tanaka** has entered the Chat Room-

**Taro Tanaka:** Hey, guys.

**Jungle:** Look. The one semi-tolerable person here. Hello, Taro.

**Robin:** Why isn’t Rosey here   
Or ICU   
I’m outnumbered

**Jungle:** Rosey’s probably out with her boyfriend-of-the-day. Not that I’m complaining, I get the room to myself for once.

**Robin:** Dude!!!   
You let her go out alone!!?!?!?

**Jungle:** I’m not her father.

**Robin:** You saw the shit that went down 

**Jungle:** Actually, I didn’t. I didn’t run towards the dead body like some horsefly.

**Taro Tanaka:** I am a little worried though. Was she wearing her Raira uniform? So many people are attacking Raira kids, I’m not sure if it’s safe to have them anymore.

**Jungle:** I’ll call her if it’ll make you all shut up about it. 

- **Jungle** has left the Chat-

**Robin:** Hey for once Jungle isn’t being a total dick   
Wait wait wait   
So Jungle’s rooming with Rosey right

**Taro Tanaka:** I think so, why?

**Robin:** Shit   
I’ve been thinking Jungle was a guy in my head but what if she’s some totally hot chick!   
And she and Rosey are together

**Taro Tanaka:** I really don’t feel comfortable talking about my friends like this, I’m sorry.

**Robin:** Pff you’re all boring.

- **ICU** has joined the Chat Room-

**Robin:** Hey ICU do you think Rosey and Jungle are boning?

- **ICU** has left the Chat-

**Robin:** Rude.

- **Jungle** has joined the Chat-

**Jungle:** Rosey was attacked.

**Robin:** What???   
Where is she?   
I’ll go help her

**Jungle:** It’s fine, she’s back in our room, but apparently her date jumped her, tried to slice her throat. She’s sobbing in the bathroom right now.

**Robin:** Who did it    
Tell me right now I’ll kill them

**Taro Tanaka:** Who would do something so awful?

**Jungle:** I don’t know. I just wish I could have one night where there’s no theatrics.   
Hey, weird question, do any of you happen to know a thing with the password  _ Baccano?  _

**Robin:** My Rosey was ATTACKED AND YOUR ASKING ABOUT SOME PASSWORD

**Jungle:** Your Rosey? And also wrong your in the sentence, it should be  _ you’re _ . Managed to screw up twice.

**Taro Tanaka:** Baccano? I’ve never heard of it. Why?

**Jungle:** It’s a long story. I also need to figure out what this other code is for, but in case it’s a credit card or something I’m not showing it.

**Robin:** Am I the  _ only  _ one concerned about Rosey here?

**Jungle:** Yes.

**Robin:** You’re all heartless. Send me a private when Rosey’s back.

- **Robin** has left the Chat-

~~O~~

_ Midnight _

“Stupid, jerky, Jungle, I don’t care how hot she is in real life, she’s a jerk.” Jason kicked a rock as he paced streets. At night, Ikebukuro really did look the part of LA. At least the sky did. You couldn’t see a speck of starlight in either from the amount of light blasting into the void.

His hands were in the pockets of his leather jacket, breathing in the chilly air, the left occasionally coming out to part his hair. Fall was turning into winter, and it’d probably the furthest north he’d ever spent one. Christmas back home meant a trip to the beach, what did they do here?

It was crazy how much had happened in the past two months. He’d moved across the world, made a mortal enemy, discovered he was no longer the family nutjob, met the love of his life in person, got into a super-hero training program, though, Shizuo didn’t really like it when he called him that.

Yeah. It was all pretty cool. With a smile, he looked up to the inky black sky, not a star in sight. It was stressful, tense, weird, but...he was happy he moved for his final year of high school. Closing his eyes, letting the cool air bring goosebumps to his skin, he knew it.

Then he heard the scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! How's it going? We've had a couple really serious chapters later, so I figured it was time for a fluffier one. Well, until the end anyway ;) What can I say, cliffhangers are my thing.
> 
> I apologize in advance if my updates get a little slower. School started piling on, and I'm applying for college over summer, so I need to keep my grades up!
> 
> Anyway, so: We got to witness a day in the life on Jason Starkweather. What will Jason and Eliot break next? Who did Jonathan get into a drag race with? What was the screaming from? Find out, on Durarara x2.5!
> 
> Have a wonderful day/night! Leave a kudo if you liked it, and drop a comment on what you think! Has anyone's guesses to who each screen name's person is changed? Also! I'll be starting up a Tumblr soon based around this, so if you have any questions, headcannons, fannart, anything, please drop me a message!


	21. Meat

Shizuo’s life sucked. As usual, it was Izaya’s fault. 

“How many damn people did he piss off?!” He knew the answer. Hundreds. Thousands. Probably every man, woman, and dog in the city had some bone to pick with him. And it seemed like every single one of them decided the way to get revenge was to go after his ‘love’. 

He didn’t know who to be angrier with about that. Izaya, or Erika, who spread it all. 

“We.” He swung at the man with the yellow scarf. “Are.” Mailbox to group of guys with matching jackets. “Not.” Sorry, lamp pole. “Together!”

He ripped a stop sign from the ground, spinning to knock them all back. This wasn’t fair, this all just wasn’t  _ fair  _ that Izaya could do this to him. It was on purpose too, he bet. Somehow he’d gotten a hold of some freakish wonder drug, weaponized it, called it a Virus and infected Shizuo. He couldn’t think of a reason  _ why,  _ the name Orihara certainly struck less fear than it used to; it was the laughing stock of the city, right alongside Shizuo’s, but it still would be something he would do.

They’d turned from Urban Legends to Urban Porn Stars overnight. The fact Tom hadn’t fired him yet was actually a miracle.

At least he finally had a day off. Jason was probably going to hunt him down later, he always seemed to find a way, with the same excuse of  _ “my roommate’s weird.”  _ He was really going to have to plan a meeting with that guy someday. Freaked him out someone knew  _ that  _ much about him.

For now, though, all he wanted to do was enjoy a meal, with a friend, in peace. Without someone mentioning Izaya-  _ if one more person called him the ‘bitch of Shinjuku’ Shizuo swore to god he’d lose it, because his arch nemesis was certainly not a bitch, he did not fail at killing some petty bitch for seven years-  _ seeing a picture of Izaya, - _ and certainly not staring at the fact that maybe when he was shut up with a kiss he wasn’t so terrible looking. Only when he was shut up, of course..damn it he started a cult on his looks, sue him for noticing.-  _ without him even thinking of Izaya,-  _ okay that one probably wasn’t possible. He couldn’t do that pre-Virus, like he would be able to manage after he saw the insect writhing and moaning his name and damn nope not going down that path of thinking-  _ all he wanted was some time to relax.

It was a school day, right? So Eliot would be at school, unable to annoy him for at least a couple hours. Russia Sushi should be safe until then.

He made his way down through the traffic, constantly tugging and adjusting the scarf to try and cover any mark of the brand Izaya managed to stain onto his skin. Nicks with his knife, scratches of his nails, he swore there was a puncture wound right above the artery that looked exactly like a vampire’s. Maybe that was why Izaya was so against monsters; he was one of them...in the literal sense, instead of just the metaphorical there was no question about.

“Shizuo! Come in, come in, I have good deal on Happy Roll.”

“Thanks, Simon. Hey, when’s your break?”

“Break? I take no break. But I sit with you if it avoids fight.”

He probably didn’t deserve Simon, either, honestly. “Thanks, yeah, I’d appreciate it.”

A few minutes later, he found himself sat in his favorite corner, a platter of, look, he’s an honest guy, all of the sushi there looked pretty disgusting, but he’d eat it anyway because it made Simon happy. Simon was talking to him, about each dish, but his pact against thinking about Izaya was already broken.

How was someone like Simon related to the min-flea? He couldn’t imagine them sharing the same genetics. They looked nothing alike, sounded nothing alike. Maybe the kid was adopted? He saw Izaya in Izaya’s family, even h is sisters, who, while not nearly as bad, had the same biting voices and irritatingly fast legs. When Simon sat down, Shizuo realized ignoring it wasn’t going to make it go away. Simon did seem to know Izaya pretty well. Maybe he’d have a better way to kill him than ‘ _ Napoleoning into Russia _ ’ as Shinra  _ so helpfully  _ put it. “Eliot’s your nephew, huh?”

“Little deer? Yes! Sister’s son.”

“What’s she like, your sister?” He popped a bite of fried chicken sushi in, pulling back his grimace. 

“Like rest of family.” Something shifted in Simon, he saw. Something tightened, a wire pulled taught. “I feel bad for little deer, glad he finally came. Not healthy for him there.”

Should he push it? He really didn’t want to be kicked out of there again. “Why?”

“...” Simon leaned back, taking off the blue cap Shizuo realized he’d never seen him without. “Brezhnev family has saying.  _ Wolf without teeth is meat.” _

Oh. “Well that’s…uh…”

Simon looked him dead in the eye, without pause. “My Nephew is meat. He tries hard, but he is meat.”

“Geesh, a little harsh there.” Shizuo leaned back, eyes glancing around. “How old’s the kid, sixteen?” It suddenly hit Shizuo that, damn, he was wishing death on a  _ sixteen year old kid.  _ Mini-flea or not, that was kind of messed up.

“Seventeen. In my family, that is old enough.” Simon sighed, leaning with his hands on the table. “I do not like saying. So I convince sister to send him here. We serve sushi instead of meat!”

“Sounds good.” Suddenly it wasn’t just the sushi making him nauseous. “You do know your Nephew’s slumming around with the flea, right?”

“...there is nothing I can do. I try, first day, to warn him, but he’s stubborn little deer. I knew it would happen if they met. Boys like them find each other.”

“Like them?”

“Meat who can’t be wolves, so they become shepherds. Build walls against wolves and train them into dogs.”

Huh. So that’s what Izaya was doing. “So who wins? Wolf or sheppard?”

“Who wins war? One with fist or one with food?” Simon pat his head. “I be back. Finish flyer stack.” Turning, he began to walk to the door, before Shizuo asked one last question.

“What are you?”

Simon smiled back. “I sell sushi.” 

The door shut. And for a brief moment, just a moment, Shizuo couldn’t see either as the monsters in the towers, but scared little boys walking around trying to scare off the bullies with their parent’s unloaded gun. For a moment, he could almost feel pity.

Then police sirens circled the building, his hands were cuffed, and he was shoved into the back of his usual police car.

“ _ Iiiizaaayaaa!” _

All was back to normal. 

###  ~~O~~

Human beings, as a whole, can be carved and sorted into many different categories; but, Izaya personally thinks Mr. Wilde had it best. People are either charming or tedious. He loved them all the same, no matter which side of the line they stood, but the charming ones certainly provided more entertainment. 

Some were easy to peg from the start. The moment Izaya saw Mikado’s pet project, looked at the boy’s picture, he knew he’d land himself solidly in the charming category. Ones like him always were, full of contradiction, ambition,  _ life.  _ It took him a little longer, but he’d seen the same with Masaomi, the levels of burning self-hatred and regret even before he put him through his game. Others, like Saki, made fun pawns to play around with, but stayed firmly on the tedious side until a push. He’d seen, personally, the lengths that girl would go for status in a system, whichever it may be. His or otherwise. He hadn’t a doubt in his mind that the moment she fell from his hands, she landed right in the palm of another's.

He liked playing his games with humans, he really did. Sometimes, despite their vile nature, he liked to weave monsters into the fold. Not to watch the monsters, of course, they weren’t capable of being entertaining, they never had any stakes, but to watch his precious human’s reactions to them. To see the villain hiding under the bed, a dragon to slay, a ghost to haunt their dreams.

But sometimes, they went too far. Izaya never minded a human undoing the carefully woven threads of his plans. That was the exciting part of them, seeing how someone would try to break. It’s why God gave humans free will, after all. It would be terribly boring to watch a play you wrote, always much more entertaining to see the way it shifted through the populace in an endless game of telephone.

However, no one, monster or human, was allowed to tread  _ his  _ ground as god.

This Virus simply couldn’t be allowed anymore. It had to be eliminated. And the one behind it punished for daring to strike a divine. 

The mythology behind it all certainly wasn’t complicated to deduce.  _ Cupid,  _ or  _ Eros  _ as his original form was called. Greek god of sex and passion, armed with golden arrows of love, and black arrows of hate. He wouldn’t have bought it, if it weren’t for Celty’s existence, proof that valkyries were more than legend. And if the Norse weren’t lying, what reason would the Greeks?

From there, though, it was a wash, and he was kicking himself for letting such a large swath of the city slip through his fingers while he was focused on Mayfield. He was essentially starting from the ground up, having only whispers, vague trails of rumors and whispers. Even the Dollars seemed mostly at a loss. 

_ Cult of the Roses.  _ That was the name being tossed around. As overdramatic and presumptuous as the being he suspected was behind it all. 

Maybe he should tell Saika? Let her take care of it for him? She needed a god to slay after all. He points her in the direction of one and she’d sniff it out like a bloodhound. Even monsters occasionally had their uses. If he was lucky, maybe they’d take out each other. 

But no, that wouldn’t do. Not this time. This time it was  _ personal.  _ Izaya wasn’t one to let his grudges interfere with his business, especially not ones against monsters, but for this case...he’d make an exception, for the one who made a mockery out of his name.

It was the blunt truth that the reason he didn’t already have a face, address and spy infiltrating the Roses’ ranks was those pictures that went viral. He couldn’t go outside without a taunt.  _ The Bitch of Shinjuku.  _ His entire life he’d fought tooth and nail to reach the status of an Urban Legend,  _ The Information Broker,  _ top in his field by high school, feared by rich and poor, weak and powerful alike. He gave away his pride and childhood to the yakuza to get where he was and it only took a single photograph to send it all crashing back.

But he was going to bring it back. He was. The wolves biting at the door weren’t going to enter until  _ he  _ wanted them to.

Until he slayed this god and took its place.

Without looking up from his computer, he quirked a smile when the door opened and shut. “Someone’s late. I’ll have to deduct it from your pay.”

“I’ll spread the photos if you do.”

“Too late.” Izaya leaned back, crossing his legs at the knee, cushioning his head with his arms. “They’re all over. You still have nothing on me, Namie.”

She snorted, shedding off her winter coat. “Is there a reason I’m even in today? It’s not like anyone would hire you after that.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. I have plenty of clients just dying for a chance with me.”

Rolling her eyes, she took her place, sorting files. “Shizuo was arrested again. Your work?”

Oh right.That. He still needed to have a  _ chat _ about that. “Of course it was. Can’t have some beast like that running around, spreading lies about what happened.”

“Sure. That’s why.” 

Sometimes he questioned why he kept her on the payrolll. But still, she was right. He was going to have to deal with that, wouldn’t he? 

Sighing, he opened up Google, not typing in a website, but merely typing into the search bar.  _ [We need to chat.] _

A moment later, his text was deleted and replaced.  _ [We have nothing to talk about.] _

_ [You’re cheating the rules of our agreement, you know. You had your off limits, I had mine.] _

_ [You’ve broken yours three times in the last week, I thought it’d might do to remind you what I’m capable of.] _

Izaya’s face pulled into a frown.  _ [Jailing Shizu-Chan’s not exactly hard. I’ve done it, less clumsily too.] _

_ [You’re scared.] _

_ [Oh, really? And what makes you say that? You want to lock Shizu-chan up forever, please, feel free. I’m willing to help. Frame him as the Mincer, save yourself some work later on.] _

_ [You seem to forget.]  _ His screen went black, before flipping and showing video of himself, taken from different angles, live. [ _ I see you.] _

He should have known. He’d had Namie and some others sniff around for cameras, but, this was a special case, wasn’t it? Instantly his posture shifted, went relaxed, with an easy grin. [ _ You think I didn’t know that? If you were going for shock value, you shouldn’t have made such a mess of the place. Breaking into my apartment, going a bit far, no?] _

_ [I didn’t do it for the cameras. Those were already in there.] _

If his little Machine was going to play for dramatics, he was too. “ _ Care to enlighten me why, then?”  _ He said in their ever popular language of ones and zeros, waiting for the microphones to pick him up.

His computer went dead. All of his phones began to ring at once, lights went out, tea kettle whistling as the TV flashed on and off and on and off in a message clearer than any string of numbers. 

_ To show you that I can. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! It's a kind of special update today- it's my birthday! *Blows Kazoo* I may not be on much, we're going out to this cool nerd-bar near us as celebration, but I hope you all like it! It's also officially when we pass over the 50,000 word mark. I totally didn't plan that but I'm happy about it anyway.
> 
> Alright, enough rambling about the person. Today we learned; Simon has a history, Shizuo has regrets, and Izaya may have finally gotten in a little over his head. Who will get to the god? What was Shizuo arrested for? What is the real meaning behind Simon's saying? Find out on Durarara x2.5! Have a wonderful day/night, kudo if you liked it, comment what you thought. And we have a tumblr now too! Send in any questions, headcannons, whatever you'd like, I'd love to be able to chat with you guys!
> 
> https://durararax2-5.tumblr.com/


	22. Sparks Fly

Eliot was ready to scream.

_ What are these stupid codes?!  _ He’d been running himself ragged trying to figure that out. Not like much of the rest of his investigation was going all that great; he knew the entire history of Mance Fleshing’s goldfish now, but nothing about broke into Izaya’s apartment, or who killed the guy on the floor below. The Mincer was his best guess, but, that was the same as saying Jack the Ripper did it.  _ Who was Jack the Ripper? _

Maybe he should have studied Sherlock instead of Shakespeare. 

Now he was spending every second period, Journalism, where he had access to computers, trying to figure out what the hell  _ Baccano  _ stood for, and what that random series of numbers below it meant. Were they connected? Different codes? Not codes at all? Just meant to confuse him? Nothing, he had nothing.

As he was about to give up for the day, try to get some  _ actual  _ writing done, he heard the door burst open followed by a loud crash and a flurry of ‘sorry’s’. When he looked over, there was a kid buried in boxes and stereo sets. Most of the others in the room started to laugh, the other half ignoring him. Usually Eliot would usually keep quiet but...

“Don’t you people have a life? Back off.” Eliot stood, glaring down the laughing group. It got them to shut up. A couple weeks ago, they would have gone right to laughing at  _ him,  _ but video of Jason and him fighting got around, and now his words carried some weight. Crackling his knuckles- which,  _ ow,  _ was a stupid idea ow ow that  _ hurt-  _ he walked over to the other, who was sitting on the floor, bangs covering his eyes, rushing to try and re-stack the boxes. He was much bigger up close. From a distance Eliot thought the guy was actually shorter than him, the way he curled in on himself, but, he was wrong. This guy was about Jonathan’s height. 

Ugh. Stupid tall people. Whatever, kid still looked pathetic enough. Sighing, he started to help him stack the boxes. “I hate people like people like them, think they’re on top of the world cause they don’t have to try.”

The boy nodded, eyes still locked down. “S-sorry, I-I, sorry, I didn’t know-”

“Nice jacket,” he said, because the sorrys got annoying and not because he didn’t want the guy upset. Of course. “Cool color.”

“T-thank you.” The boxes were reset in the corner.

Eliot stretched his arms over his head, hearing his back crack. “I’m Eliot. They pick on you a lot?”

A nod.

“Screw them. When I was a kid, I promised myself I’d find some way to get rid of all people like that, who pick on those they think are weaker just because they can’t see a backfire. But, then I realized I’d have to rid the world of  _ everyone,  _ and sadly I don’t have the budget for that.”

The boy cracked a small smile, offering a shaky hand. “H-Hisashi Fumihito. B-But most people c-call me Sparks.”

“Sparks?” He tilted his head. “That sounds familiar.”

“I-I do most of the tech-work f-for the news show.”

Oh. “Uh, sorry I never saw you.”

“Most people don’t…” Ouch. Okay, maybe he felt a little guilty if he really never noticed him before. “But it’s okay! R-really, I don’t mind, really. That’s why there’re people behind the camera, right?”

“Yeah, I guess. People like to think they’re better just ‘cause they got in front; it just means they’re lucky.” Eliot stuck his hands in his pockets. “Wait, you do all the tech stuff, right?’

“Y-yeah.” Sparks gave a nervous smile. “I really like computers.”

Well, it was worth a shot. “I’ll do your English essays for a week if you help me out.” He slid back into his chair.

“Y-You don’t have to, reall-”

“This isn’t a  _ donation.  _ This is a trade. You don’t want the essays, what do you want?”

Sparks gulped, sitting next to him. “To thank you for standing up for me.”

This kid was too sweet for his own good. It was going to kick him in the ass. God knows he didn’t last long that nice. “Fine, whatever. I need to find something with the password  _ Baccano.”  _ At least, he thinks it’s a password. “Any ideas?”

Sparks shook his head. Ugh, of course. “I can do a search for you, I-If you want.”

“What?” He blinked.

“Here.” Okay, it pissed him off a little that Sparks was able to slide over Eliot’s chair and replace it with his own with about zero effort, but then he saw the guy’s fingers fly on the keyboard and... _ whoa.  _ “I just use this filter system, go into the backlog, and do a basic google search.”

“You can google search by passwords?”

“If you do it right.”

That was creepy. And useful. But mostly creepy.

A moment later, a website came up, with a black background and the word  _ Dollars  _ written in a white circle. Wait. No way. “Is this the Dollars sign up page?” He’d learned a lot about the Dollars from Izaya in one of their little crash courses. It was how it worked, most of the time. Eliot would do his shift at Russia Sushi, Izaya would order a ton of Fatty Tuna, Eliot would schlep it over, do some paperwork for Izaya, get his orders for what to accomplish by the next day, who to spy on, sometimes minor breaking and entering and photography, then he’d come back, Izaya would sit down with him and  _ talk.  _ About Ikebukuro, the heart of the city, who did what where with who. He was still learning, of course, and there wasn’t a doubt that Izaya left out the most important information for Eliot to find on his own, but it did give him a nice platform to go off, considering he’d barely been in the area a month.

But this seemed like an Encyclopedia of Ikebukuro. Not in the least because the top post was “ _ OMG WOULDNT IT BE AWESOME IF WE MADE AN ENCYCLOPEDIA ABOUT IKEBUKURO?!?!”  _ Was that why Izaya gave it to him? To give him a head start? So then what was the other?

Still. All of that seemed a lot less useful than being able to search the internet by password. Speaking of which… “What about that?” 

“That's not a password.” Sparks ran his thumb over the string of seemingly numbers. “It's part of a URL.”

“For what website?”

“We’ll have to find out.” Sparks moved the mouse, the screen went to a black series of ones and zeroes. Eliot had zero idea what he was doing, how it worked. He saw the word ‘google’ quite a few times, so he was pretty sure he was, in hacker movie speak, in Google’s ‘mainframe’. “Where did you learn all this?” 

“My f-father’s a programmer. So he taught me.”

All he learned from his dad was how to shoot with his eyes closed and that he was a disgrace to the family name. Both of them. 

A moment later, a website popped up, and he tilted his head. “That's…” The chat site he used. Well, Fiyero roped him into and subsequently made him pretend he was a girl. Never would understand that. Leaning in, he started to scroll through the backlog. “Kanra, Setton...wait, Taro?” Taro Tanaka? What were the odds two people had the same name, one in his chat and one in this?

Considering Izaya gave it to him, zero. 

Alright, so that was a clue of some sort. To what he didn't know. “Is there any way to check where all these people are?” Should he keep asking for these favors?

“Yeah! I'd just trace the IP address.” 

The useful was slowly starting to outweigh the creepiness, as he got a list of the GPS location of the place each message was sent. 

-

_ “But how do you do it? Get all this information, find who to sell it to.” _

_ Izaya laughed, as he so often did, standing from the couch. “One second.” He watched him walk up the spiral steps, give a quick word to Namie, who went into a room in the back, handing him some dusty books. Coming down, he placed it on the desk, opening to the center. It looked like a yearbook, from some place called Rajin.  _

_ After a few minutes of turning pages, it landed on a annoyed Izaya in a black and red uniform. “You see this?” He flipped the page. “I still know the names and every single one of these humans.” He pointed to a girl with large dangling hoops. “She's where I buy my knives, brilliant blacksmith.” A boy with burned hands. “He sends me security tapes from the police station.” A boy with glasses and a frankly terrifying grin. “That's Shinra. He's been there from the start, gave me the idea for all of this. Still see him at least once a month, his fiancé is my courier.”  _

_ It was foreign for some reason. The idea that Izaya ever ‘came up with the idea’, he was ever anything but the puppet master, pulling the strings of the city until it strangled itself. But there he was, younger than him, his stature and status in the world. “You kept contact with all of them?” _

_ “The important ones. The rest I keep the occasional tab on. I love humans, they're all interesting in their own little ways. But there's a practical purpose. It doesn't matter how good a fighter you are, how strong you think you are. Without power, you have nothing. And it’s not physical that gives you power, power is your ability to get people to do what you want them to.” With a sideways grin, he sat beside, opening the second to Shizuo kicking a soccar ball. “Shizu-chan’s stronger than me, that was never a contest. But he’ll never be able to touch me. Because he never changes, he never adapts. He’s the same blunt instrument he was in highschool, same savage beast. I can do whatever I want with him, jail him, run him around, because despite all that physical strength, no one listens to a word he says.” _

_ “How do you know who to pick, though? You said the important ones, how do you know who will be important?” _

_ “You’ll tell. Every human’s either charming or tedious. Your job is to get all the charming on your side.” _

-

Sparks wasn’t charming, by any stretch of the traditional usage. He was an awkward, stumbling mess of a teenage train wreck, a classic Shakespearean painted pole, twitchy and pathetic.  Eliot had known him a grand total of two minutes and he knew that. as fact However, Eliot wasn’t looking for traditional.

“You busy at lunch today?”

“W-what?” Sparks blinked down at him. 

“Today. Lunch.”

Sparks shifted in his seat, shoulders hunched to his ears. “I-I guess not. I usually eat with my roommate, but, I think he’s visiting his brother…”

“Good.” Eliot swiveled in his chair, chin tilted up. “I have a proposition for you.”  _ Tame your wolf, Eliot. Get a chain around his neck and let him bite anyone coming too close.  _

“Okay?” Sparks shifted, sitting on his knees in the chair, head cocked like a puppy. 

“I’m not the best with computers. Never was my thing. But my job requires me being able to find a lot about everything.” He smiled and crossed his legs. “I want someone to do what you can.”

Sparks looked downright starstruck. “You want m-me to help?”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t.” He offered a hand. “I’d pay you, of course. I have some work funds, and I have a perfect score in English and History, I can do your assignments there. Just know, what we’re doing is on... _ questionable,  _ legal ground. Once you come on, it’s too late to turn back.”

“I wouldn’t imagine I could.” Sparks had an almost distant look, seeing the hand. “A-are you sure you want me?  _ Me? _ ”

“You just reverse googled a twenty digit randomized password. I want you.”

After a moment of silence, Sparks took his hand, and he wouldn’t say it, but his reverent grip was a  _ massive  _ ego boost. “T-thank you, for giving me a chance.”

“Don’t let me down.” Pulling back, he dusted off his hands, looking to the screen. “So, Sparks, let’s see what you’ve got.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the day delay. This scene is going to be really important for a _lot_ of stuff later on so I needed to make sure everything in it was right. Plus I haven't been feeling too well. Anyway, I hope everyone liked it! I'll try to keep things short.
> 
> Today, we learned Eliot's got into the Dollars chat, Sparks can reverse google, and an alliance has been forged. What will Eliot do with the new information? How will this alliance change the game? Find out on Durarara x2.5! Kudo if you liked it, comment what you think :) They're really appreciated, and help me out in catching mistakes, determining points of view and stuff. And it really helps boost my confidence since today has kind of just...not very good. Anyway, see you soon!


	23. Update

Hey everyone, its Ithefantastic here. I know it's been a long time since you've heard from me, and I promised myself I'd never do one of these update chapters, but here I am. 

 

If I'm honest, I should have done this months ago, if nothing else than as thanks to those who have been following along. A few of you may have read my end-notes, and you may have noticed my birthday had passed, as well as a fight with one of my teachers.I tried to play it as a mostly calm event, but if I'm honest, it marked the start a really hard time in my life. 

 

I never mentioned this, but I have bad anxiety. I know it's a bit of a buzzword nowadays, and I'm sure there are people with much worse than me. But this was around the time it started to hit me hard. I'm in four AP classes, founder and president of three clubs, member of three honor societies, one of which I'm a councilmember, as well as the only female on the History Bowl team and only non IB member of the academic one. I much overextended myself in a desperate attempt to make my parents happy, since they often said I spent too much time just goofing off at home. This wasn't enough either, even if they didn't say it out loud, but it was as much as I  _thought_ I could physically handle. 

 

Then History Bowl came around. And I just hit my breaking point. Around my birthday my anxiety grew tenfold. I'd like to give a trigger warning here for suicidal thoughts. I won't be graphic, but, over the next couple months, I was consumed by constant fear, a constant tightening in my chest. I treated it as a joke to my loved ones and friends, little comments like "oh I learned something amazing, if you die you don't have to take the SAT" and "Ive decided my life goal is just a failure," but honestly those were playing in my head  _constantly._ I genuinely forgot what it was like to not be thinking about my own death. 

 

All this culminated in a Saturday around midnight spent sobbing on the floor trying to get in contact with the online suicide hotline, my computer booting me off, and being saved by one of my best friends talking me down.

 

I didn't mean to say any of this as an excuse. I should have said something earlier instead of just dropping off the map. I was just  _scared,_ I guess. I originally posted this fanfic as a sort of proof to myself that I don't need validation from others. Because this was an OC fic I assumed it wouldn't get any attention, it was supposed to be a bit of a shock to my ego. But then it blew up, and I couldn't believe it. And I did exactly what I promised I wouldn't, I _obsessed_ over getting comments and kudos, I started forcing myself to update faster and faster, and it took everything in me not to change the story to have more popular characters have more screen time. 

 

Then I posted a chapter I was genuinely worried about, the last one, since it was the second chapter in a row completely about OCs. And when I wasn't getting any comments- and no, I'm not blaming anyone else. It was literally a day, and I was in a horrible state of mind- I took it to mean that I'd just failed at this too, that of course, nobody liked my work anymore, why would I even bother trying?

 

Then I got a flood of support, which thank you again, everyone, so much. As I was starting to recover I'd go back and read them and they'd start to give me strength as I tried to piece myself back together again. 

 

I'm going to a therapist and psychiatrist now, and on the road to recovery, and on this road, I promised myself I'm not going to leave this story without an ending. There should be an update in the next week or so, and I'll move this little update to the end notes of that, but either way, I just want to say this now.

 

Thank you everyone. Thank you for reading, commenting, kudoing. Thank you for helping me pick myself back up. This isn't the end. I'll say that season 2 is starting now, and we've got many more mysteries to uncover :) Have a wonderful day/night and I promise I'll see you all soon.

 

PS. Sorry if the wording is a little choppier than usual I'm terrified of rereading this since I'm 90 percent sure if I do I'll psyche myself out and not post it.


	24. Season 2

“I can’t believe you just held a guy at chopstick point.”

“He had the Hikaru no Go box set edition! How could we _not?!”_

Saburo knew his friends were fighting. Well, arguing. It chattered away at the edge of his hearing. But did he care? No. Why? Because today was the single best day of his life and nothing would _ever_ change that. His eyes wouldn’t leave the two words inscripted on his phone, and he wouldn’t try to if he could. Even if it led to him walking into quite a few poles.

“Saburo! Saburo!” Erika chirped in his ear, but he continued to ignore it, until he was hip-checked into the wall.

“Erika what the-”

“Who’d win in a fight, Naruto or Edward Elric?” Walker put his arm around him. “And your answer may or may not determine if this friendship can continue.”

“...I don’t know who either of those people are so can you _let go.”_ And let him go back to staring at his phone in peace as they walked the streets of Ikebukoro.

Walker gave that overloud, closed eye smirk. “Oooh, still reading that tweet!”

Erika fluttered her eyes. “It’s basically a love confession.”

“Doki Doki’s not oki do-”

“Lay off,” Saburo muttered. “Just let me read in peace.”

“The most romantic tweet to ever.” Erika put a hand on her heart, the other in the air in mock Shakespearean play. “Dear Saburo, the love of my life, my sun and moon and starts.” With a spin, she swiped his phone, holding it to her eyes as she fell into Walker’s arms. “‘That’s Sweet, smiley face.’”

Saburo was rather sure he could fry eggs on his face right now. “It had _two_ smilely faces.” He managed to snatch it back. “Ruri tweeted _me_ out of thousands of other guys. Can’t you see what that means?!”

Kyouhei sighed, patting his head. “It means you need to spend less time on twitter. And saying that you hope you die soon so you can become her guardian angel might have been a little much.”

“None of you understand the depth of my love and affection.” Repoening his phone, he gave a dreamy sigh, reeading the tweet again. If only he didn’t have to drive today, so he could spend the rest of his life basking in the glory of Ruri’s wonderful wor-

Drive.

Car.

His _car_.

_What happened to his car?!_

Erika, Walker, and Kyouhei were all silent, a feat he didn’t even think possible. He, on the other hand, was not. “What happened to my car!” Maybe he was screaming a little loud, as people scurried away. But he didn’t care.

His side mirror was broken clean off, he could see the bent metal and shattered glass scattered on the road. A massive dent caved in his door, and one of his headlights was taken clean out.

He heard Kyouhei sigh. “Saburo, calm down, I’m sure it was an accident.

“It better be an accident or I swea-” Well, now he knew exactly how it happened, as a tiny electric Toyota swerved onto the sidewalk. Pedestrians scoured for cover, as Kyouhei threw him over his shoulder, pulling him back against the storefront. So he had to watch in horror as the car took out his other mirror and headlight.

It.

Was.

_On._

He dove into the drivers seat, not waiting to hear the doors click shut behind him from the others scurrying in, foot pressed flush against the floor as the van vaulted forward. Erika managed to shut the door, face squished against it as he banked a hard turn right to try and cut the other guy off.

The Toyota banked left. “Oh no you don’t.” He pulled the shift stick and the car jolted, gear shifting, racing forward, fast enough for him to get a glance through the window of the car.

... _Shizuo?!_ He slammed his foot on the break, drifting back to try and get another shot to see through, cars beeping behind him, swerving to avoid a crash.

No, it wasn’t Shizuo, it was that asshole from Russia Sushi Erika was chasing after before. Oh, vengeance was going to be sweet. He raced forward again, jolting right, side banging into the other car, which skid into a circle, crashing along the sidewalk, before it turned the other direction, rushing forward.

“Hey, where’d you think you’re going!” He spun hard, wheel turning twice as Erika and Walker bounced around in the back, cheering. He shot forward again, engine revving as he went backward in traffic. This guy was going _down._

He was a head peaking out the window. Yeah, it looked like the guy from the sushi shop. All blonde hair and sharp eyes. He gave a dopey smile and wave, pointing forward.

“What?!”

“Race to Sunshine?” the guy shouted.

“This isn’t a freakin’ race, you hit my-” _And_ the guy was racing off.

“You just gonna take that Sabo?” Erika leaned her head on the seat’s shoulder. “Come on!”

“Right!” Alright, he needed a shortcut. He banked left this time, turning into a park, riding up the stairs. It was ten on a school day anyway, all the kids should be in class. Should be empty, right?

Yeah, it wasn’t. But those who weren’t got out of the way pretty quick.

He was cutting across the park, moving to head the guy off at Sunshine, when he saw a black flash in the one mirror he had left. What the hell, why was that guy going through the park? And why did he just turn off the path, moving to go through the trees? Was it because Saburo couldn’t fit with the van-

“Duck!” Walker screamed.

“Shit!” Saburo ducked down, then felt a jolt shake the car. When he peeked his head up, he saw the van was sunk halfway into a pond, staring in horror as a baby duck scurried up his windshield, snuggling on his sunroof.

No. This was too far. This was _too far._ The Toyota was hugging the sides of the like to ride around, so Saburo did the only logical thing. He kept driving. Straight through the pond, he gave the car a hard burst of speed, which shot the car through the water, onto the other side where the curved lip pulled them into the air, crashing down in a pile of leaves, which stuck to his windshield blocking his from the front. All he had left were his side windows.

The Toyota was covered in mud now, dodging through the trees, and Saburo figured he had nothing left to lose. He whipped around the corner, following the sounds of traffic, pulling into the road on the other side. He raced forward, seeing the sunshine archway so close ahead, he’d get there first then pull the guy out of the car and-

_Smash!_

The airbags boomed into action as he was thrown against the steering wheel. A high pitched screech ached in his ear as sirens began to squeal. Kyouhei groaned from the seat next to him, peeling his face from the plastic bag. “You could have just taken the license number.”

Some of the leaves had blown off in the crash, so he could finally see what he’d hit.

That Black Toyota.

He wasn’t conscious of what he was doing. He had no idea, anger flowed through him, kicked open the door and dragged him over where he saw the blonde guy stumble out from his seat, dinged up, bleeding in a few places, grinning like a madman. “That was epic! Did you see that did you see that, I almost die-”

“You wanna die I’ll-” Kyouhei was holding him by the wrists, keeping him from swinging at the blonde, who stood with a wide-eyed dopey grin. “You wrecked my car!”

“Yeah but wasn’t it awesome?”

“No! How am I supposed to pay for this, for any of this!”

Erika and Walker were still in the truck, Erika with her phone out, filming the whole thing from the back seat. He could see the little light and somehow that made everything _worse._

“Oh...right. Uh. Sorry about this, I didn’t think about that.” The blonde walked over to the truck. “How much would this be?”

He was going to scream. Or cry. His truck was in pieces _._ “You, _you…”_

It was then, though, that he noticed...where had all the police gone? They were following them before, he knew it. Why was it suddenly so _quiet._ The street was abandoned now, only a single, sleek white car pulled up beside them. A woman stepped out, dark sunglasses and hair down to mid back, carrying two suitcases. A man came out next, taking the blonde by the wrist and dragging him back to his Toyota, as the woman came up to Saburo.

“Hello, I’m Lin from Lin and Company.” She held out the briefcase. “This should be more than enough to cover any of the damages our client may have accidentally brought. If you do not feel it is enough compensation, our card is also in there. However, we do recommend you do not attempt to take legal action against our client.”

“And why not?!”

“You _will_ lose.” She pulled down her sunglasses to her nose, brown eyes almost glittering. “Our boss needs to keep him around. Now.” She slid back up the glasses, pulling out her phone. “I will call you a limo service to bring you wherever you’d like, and our mechanics will take your car, fix it however you see fit, or purchase you a new one altogether.”

Now he was even more confused. “Then what’s the money for?”

She smiled. “Have a good day.” With that, she turned heel, clicking across the pavement, back to the milk white car. The blonde and the Toyota were both gone, and Saburo was stuck standing there, a heaping pile on metal that used to be his truck, and a briefcase he’d later learn held over a hundred thousand dollars in cash. Which, after conversion to yen, came to about Transformers level upgrades to his van.

 

~~O~~

_ Later that Night _

Jonathan hummed, popping in a french frie.  “Oh! The coolest thing happened today!”

“Mhm.”

“I got into a drag race.”

“Yeah, sur-” Jason choked on his drink. “ _ What _ ? “

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm back. A lot of stuff has been happening lately, if you want to see it you can read the update from last chapter. I'm really sorry about all of it, for the long wait, but I promise I'm back. I like to think of this as the start of season two of Durarara x2.5, since this is where a lot of mysteries are going to start really hitting the fan. I admit I'm still not in the healthiest state of mind, but I promise I'll try to keep it just like it was before. 
> 
> So, in that spirit:  
> Today, we learned Kadota is Van Dad (tm), Saburo has a bit of a temper, and a certain taxi driver blonde maybe into some bigger things than anyone expected. What's Saburo going to do with the money? Who exactly is this mysterious Lin and Co? And most importantly why do they keep letting Jonathan behind the wheel? Find out next time on Durarara x2.5! Kudo if you liked it, comment what you think, and have a wonderful day/night, and see you soon :)


	25. Jail Birds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Just letting you know the song that comes up is actually Shizuo's character song. You can find it either by adding 'Shizuo Character' song into Youtube- it's the first to come up- or using this link. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I1R_LfUEP8g

Shizuo didn’t know where the line of failure was on this whole ‘mentorship’ thing. He knew he pretty much botched the big brother one, considering the therapy Kasuka had to go through, but, for a while, he thought he was making out alright with that Jason kid. Maybe he wasn’t complete trash at the whole responsibility thing after all.

He thought, anyway. Before Jason was thrown in the cell right next him. He was pretty sure prison was one of those lines.

“God, damn it!” He punched the wall, feeling the metal bend around his fist. They made the cell special for him, so he couldn’t break the stone. Again. That dent happened to be along the long line of similar ones. “ _ Izaya!” _

“Uh, Sensei?”

He felt his eye twitch. Jason had taken to calling him ‘Sensei’ after watching some movie called ‘Karate Kid’, and no matter how many times Shizuo asked, he wouldn’t stop, but Shizuo couldn’t bring himself to get too angry about it. Right now, though… “I’m going to wring pale, skinny little-”

“It wasn’t him...”

“That’s just what he wants you to think.” Shizuo grit his teeth, sliding back against the cold wall. “Let me guess, police show up out of nowhere, banging on your door, grab you while you’re just eating a nice meal and not wanting to kill the goddamn insect for  _ once-”  _

Jason rubbed the back of his neck. “Actually, I just found a dead body. Well, I mean, it wasn’t dead when I  _ got  _ there, but then this  _ thing  _ came out from the ceiling and cut off their head and the blood got all over me, and that was when the police got there.”

“... _ what?!” _

“Yeah, I started throwing up, it was really bad, and one guy tasered me.” Shizuo watched as a hand stuck out threw the cell bars, covered in dry, sticky red, with a bad burn mark. “And I’m still not quite sure what happened and really confused, Jonathan’s not picking up the phone so I have no clue who’s bailing me out, my father said he’d kill me if I wound up in jail again, so yeah. How’d you get in here?”

Yeah. Shizuo ws far, far over the failure line. He’s pretty sure he’s close to looping back around from horribly he’d failed. How was he supposed to respond to this?! How does  _ anyone  _ respond to this?! “...Izaya.” 

“Ah. Hey, do they have beer here?”

“No, Jason, they don’t have beer in jail.”

“Shit. They did back home.”

Silence. Heavy, oppressive silence. He should have a lecture to give here; ask why he was out in the middle of the night, how he warned him not to get himself into bad situations, but, not only would he be a hypocrite, but, from experience, he knew saying that wouldn’t get him anywhere. “Look, you alright?”

“What?” He heard footsteps shift from the other cell, Jason coming closer to the wall. “I mean, I can’t feel any pain so-”

“That’s not what I meant.” He wrung his hands together. What would he say if it was Kasuka?...what  _ should’ve  _ he had said if it was Kasuka? “You  _ alright?” _

More silence. “...you know, no one’s ever really asked me that.” Stifled laughter. “No one’s asked if I’m  _ fine  _ with what happens, they just, they assume since I can’t feel…” The sound of a pebble hitting the wall. “I’m fine.”

Why was he so bad at this? He sighed, taking off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Don’t lie. You just watched someone die, no one’s  _ fine  _ after seeing that.” It was hard not being able to see Jason’s face, judge how well he’s doing.

“...it’s not my first.” He heard shifting. More silence, then subtle wheezing. What? He shifted closer, pressing his ear to the wall. Oh shit, that was crying, what do you do about  _ crying?! _

He tipped his head back, eyes shut, glasses sat beside him on the ground. “ _ When I got off the late night train that had departed in Ueno, Aomori station was covered in snow.” _

The crying started to stifle, sniffling, and Shizuo’s shoulders slumped. He hadn’t sang in  _ years,  _ had he? Especially not that song. He’d sung it to Kasuka, the rare times he’d come stumbling into his room at night. The few moments he got to actually be a big brother.

_ “The crowd of people returning home north is silent.”  _ His voice was too low for the melody, he knew, too shaky, too broken from years of cigarettes and terrible decision making, but he at least knew the words by heart.  _ “So I listen only to the rumbling of the sea.” _

He knew Jason shifted position again, he could see his reflection now in a window that was across the hall. He looked like hell, covered in blood, hair matted down onto his forehead, eyes red from tears and exhaustion, but he was smiling a little now. The tears were stopping. He’d take that as a win.  _ “ _ _ I too board the ferryboat alone. _ _   
_ _ Staring at the seagulls out there in the freezing cold, I cried. O, the winter scenery at Tsugaru Strait.” _

Shizuo found himself cracking a smile as well _.  _ _ “‘Look, that is Tappi Cape, the northernmost end,’ say strangers, as they point their fingers. I tried wiping the glass window that has been clouded by my breath. _ ” He knocked on the wall three times, and got a laugh from the other side.  _ “But all I can see in the distance is mist.” _

He heard Jason tapping his foot from the other side, and he matched with his own.  _ “Farewell my love, I'm going home.The voice of the wind shakes my heart, bringing me to tears. O, the winter scenery at Tsugaru Strait.” _

_ “Farewell my love, I'm going home,” _ he heard from the other side of the wall. Huh, Jason wasn’t a half bad singer. Shizuo had to be sure to keep him away from cigarettes.  _ “The voice of the wind shakes my heart, bringing me to tears.” _

_ “Farewell my love, I’m going home,” _ they sang together _. “O, the winter scenery at Tsugaru Strait.” _

“...dude, you have to know that was corny as shit, right?”

“Worked.” Shizuo found himself laughing right alongside of him then. So this was what  responsibility felt like, huh? He didn’t mind it. “You’re a good kid.”

“Ha, right. Tell that to my dad.”

“I’m serious. Remember that, alright? You’re not a monster, ignore anyone who says that. I’d gone crazy if I listened.” He felt the tense mood drain away to comfortable silence, as he drifted to sleep.

\--

Shizuo woke up an hour later to the sound of clicking boots. It was still pitch black outside; Jason was snoring obnoxiously loud from cell next to him, though it stopped when the door opened, a small silhouette framed in the harsh backlight. 

_ Swift.  _

He heard a growl from Jason’s cell, a literal growl, which was matched by Swift’s hiss the moment he stepped out, shutting the door behind him. 

“Go.” He saw Jason get to his feet in the reflection, grabbing hard at the bars of the cell, growl growing deeper. 

“Oh shut it, I’m not here for you.” That was when Swift produced a spray bottle from his messenger bag, spritzing Jason right in the face, who proceeded to scream. 

“Did you just pepper spray me?!”

“It’s vinegar, don’t be such a baby.”

Shizuo stood, straightening his glasses and tie. “What’re you doing here, Swift?” His nose scrunched when he noticed the fur lining of his jacket. “What’s Izaya got you into?”

“Better fashion taste than you.”

“Hey!” Jason’s hand stuck through the bar. “You can insult me all you want, don’t start on Sensei!”

“... _ Sensei?”  _ Eliot quirked a brow. “Look, Darwin, I’d shut up.”

“What? You'll  _ cute  _ me to death? Glare at me with doe eyes-”

“Shut up!” Eliot stomped down. “I happened to do a little research on  _ daddy dearest,  _ so unless you want him finding out, go to bed.” He held the bottle up in threat. 

Instantly Jason went silent, skittering to the back wall of his cell. “You  _ wouldn-” _

“He would.” Shizuo’s eyes narrowed. “You really are him, huh? Means I don’t have to feel guilty stomping your ass into the ground the minute you hit puberty.”

At least Swift was easier to get a reaction out of. “I’m seventeen!” He took a deep breath, hands moving down in a calm-yourself motion, before he walked to the cell, pulling a pair of keys from his pockets. “I’m here to get you out, so shut up before I change my mind.”

“Maybe if you didn’t have that ba- what?” Shizuo blinked as the cell swung open. “... _ what?” _

“I got your charges dropped. You can leave.”

This was a trick. Of some kind. He knew it. Izaya wasn’t dumb enough to send a cat into a room of wolves, and wasn’t kind enough to throw the dog a bone after. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch.”

“Then why is he-”

“Look, you want out or not?” Swift crossed his arms. “I think it’s a stupid idea, letting beasts out without their own-” Sadly, Swift managed to catch his hook on a light above and hoist himself up before Shizuo’s punch landed “-ers.”

Whatever. Izaya was probably just baiting him on. Best thing he could do in this situation was leave, gather up some money, get Jason out, and strangle the Flea in his sleep. “I’ll be back, alright?” he said back to Jason. Damn, the kid looked like he needed sleep. “Get some rest.” Then, he looked up. “You’re coming with me.”

“You think I’m coming down when there’s a homicidal maniac bellow me?”

“I’m in a police station, they’d just throw me right back in.” Shizuo tucked his glasses into his shirt pocket. “I’m not leaving you here to torture him, just get down.”

“What’re you gonna do if I don- whoa!” 

The scream he heard as the fixture fell from the ceiling was the most satisfying sound of his life. With that, he threw him over his shoulder, marching out. 

Swift was struggling, he could feel. Kicking and screaming. Why couldn’t Izaya be this easy to deal with? Was he when they were kids? What was  _ Swift  _ going to be like when he got to Izaya’s age?

He dropped him right outside the door. “Go home, kid.  _ Now.” _

Eliot rushed to his feet, fists clenched around the rope to his hook, face pale. “I’m going home because it’s my turn for the apartment, not because you told me to.”

“Yeah, yeah,  _ leave  _ before I change my mind.”

Seeing the kid run off, he definitely knew Izaya wasn’t that easy to deal with at that age.

What was he supposed to do now? How was he supposed to get Jason out? How was he going to explain to Tom that he was arrested  _ again?  _ Maybe he could ask Shinra, he’s insane, but might have some strings to pull. Alright, sounded fine as an option. He started to walk down the road, hands in his pockets. It really was pitch black outside. 

Why was it so dark? What happened to all the lights? He felt goosebumps march along his arms, turning around. Ikebukuro was never this silent, never this dark. Maybe there was a power outage? Ugh, he’s doing the exact thing he warned Jason not to do, wasn’t he, getting into an easily frameable situation. 

“Why, hello Shizuo-chan. What’re you doing on this side of town so late?”

Of course. Of course It couldn’t just be a power outage. “How many times do I have to tell you to  _ stay out of my city. _ ”

“You don’t own Ikebukuro, Shizu-chan. I have business here. I was just going to pay my new intern a visit.”

There was the familiar blood boiling anger. He should stand quietly here. Demand answers, keep a clear head. Ask about the pictures and the sickness and how they were going to deal with both their newfound statuses as the city laughing stocks. Tell him to stop corrupting the youth, leave Simon’s nephew alone before he turned into a full Izaya clone. 

Instead, he picked up a stop sign. “ _ Izaya.” _

In the darkness, a passing headlight showed the white shine of that sickening grin. “Catch me if you can.”

His feet were moving before he told them too, racing after the flea. Steps pounded against the pavement, panting as Izaya moved like water ahead of him. Though, wait. Something was off. Why wasn’t he jumping? By now he should have a knife in his side, be on rooftop. 

He was overthinking it. Yeah, that was it, he was overthinking it. Maybe Izaya was just as tired of this as he was. 

Shizuo swung the sign, Izaya jumping over, vaulting off it to land on a balcony railing. There came the knives. First one shot out, a blur of silver, Shizuo lifting the sign to block the attack, metal piercing the center of the sign. He prepared for another shot, but it never came, as Izaya hopped down and continued on a path straight for…

_ The forest? _

Something was definitely wrong here. 

Well, there was an option here too. Just turn around and leave whatever scheme he concocted to himself. But, could he really just leave him to muck up the city unchecked? With a groan, he carried his sign as he ran into the woods. “ _ Izaya!” _

It really  _ was  _ pitch black out here. Silent, still. The little moonlight there was trickled through the trees casting distorted shadows on the ground. It was creepy, actually it was borderline freaking him out, the uncanny valley of this situation. 

But Izaya was so close. He saw him, just ahead, trying to scurry up a tree. Just a few more steps and-

God damn it.

“Well, I guess you didn’t leave me hanging after all.”

“I’m gonna kill you!” He would. When he wasn’t hanging upside down by his ankles from a tree. He struggled against the rope, when he realized. Why couldn’t he  _ move? _

“How amazing.” Izaya pulled a chair from behind a tree- how long had the bastard had this planned? "A full bottle of elephant tranquilizer and you’re still perfectly awake, you are truly a savag e animal. Well, at least I can talk unimpeded. Wait…” 

“Oh no you don’t!” He tried to struggle, but none of his muscles would respond, as Izaya went to his toes, hand dipping into his pocket and plucking out his phone. “What are you _ doing?!” _

“I don’t need anyone listening in.” And that was when Izaya placed his phone gently on the ground, and proceeded to smash it. Literally. Stomped on the phone while laughing. “You know, I forgot how much fun this was.” He hopped on the scattered glass. “I should do this more often.”

Alright, now Shizuo was just stunned. Not from the tranquilizer, just, in general. Why wasn’t Izaya killing him? Why were they in the middle of a forest? What was the point of any of this?!

“Now that we’re alone…” Izaya looked back up, before his eyes narrowed. “Wait, anything else electronic? Watch, hearing aid, heart monitor?”

“Why would I  _ tell you  _ if I did?”

“Fair point.” He hated Izaya’s coat. Hated it almost as much as the flea himself, the way it pranced and preened around him, flurrying out like some children’s supervillain. “Now, I don’t want to be here, and I’m sure you don’t either, so let’s make this quick, shall we?”

“ _ I’m gonna to kill you.”  _

“Duly noted. Now, onto business.” Izaya leaned into the chair, crossing one knee over the other. “Now, I’m going to tell you something you’re probably not going to believe, or understand, but try to have that little monster brain keep up, can you?”

He growled as an answer. 

“I may have gotten myself into a little bit of bind.” He glanced up. “Well, not as much as you, of course. But, a fair bit of one.”

“And  _ why  _ should I care? Good for whoever did it, I’ll go help.”

“You could, but considering they’re out to get you too, I wouldn’t be so quick.”

“...”

“Good boy.” Izaya pat his head. “Now, despite what I wish I did, I wasn’t the one who put you in prison this time.”

“ _ Bullshit.” _

“Don’t believe me if you don’t want to.” Izaya shrugged. “But it’s the truth. I’ve had a bit of a problem client lately. The pay’s too good to give up, of course, but, I think they’re starting to push a little too far. I need to focus on him.”

“Why are you telling me this?!”

“Because…” Was Izaya actually lost for words? “I need you to do something.”

No. This couldn’t be happening. “You’re asking  _ me  _ for  _ help? _ ”

“Not help, more like manual labor.”

This was too funny. This had to be a dream, he was hanging upside down by his ankles, in the middle of a park, being asked for help by  _ Izaya Orihara.  _ He was pretty sure his laugh sounded more like a cackle than anything else, until he felt cloth being stuck inside his mouth.

“ _ Shush.  _ They’ll hear us.” And now he went from being somewhat amused back to pissed. He tried to scream through the cloth, but Izaya put his hand over it. “I am trying to help you! Why I’m helping a rabid dog is beyond me bu- did you just bite my hand?!”

Spitting out the rag, Shizuo didn’t feel the need to justify that statement. 

Izaya’s face was incredulous, a look Shizuo greatly appreciated. He looked almost human like that. Almost. “Just tell me what you want?”

“The virus is targeting you.” Izaya leaned back against a tree. “It’s going to hit you again, and soon.”

“Yeah, and?”

“ _ And?  _ I’m giving you high-quality information here and all you can say is  _ and?” _

_ “And  _ what do you want me to do about it?”

“I want you to-” There was a flash of something in Izaya’s eyes. Some emotion he’d never seen, didn’t understand. And he didn’t like it. “Forget it, all of this, I don’t know why I thought you’d be any help.” 

“What are you-” There was a knife slicing through the rope, and next thing he knew he was face down in a pile of leaves. “What was the point of this?!”

“Throw out your electronics. All of them. I mean  _ all of them.  _ No TVs, lamps, computers, cell phones, watches, electric toothbrushes,  _ nothing. _ ” 

Now he knew that look in his eyes. “...shit.  _ Shit.  _ You’re scared.” Feeling was starting to get back into his body. The light from the moon was hitting Izaya’s face now, and he saw it. Deep shadows under them, bloodshot eyes, was that  _ stubble  _ on his chin?! “Izaya what the  _ fuck  _ have you gotten yourself into?”

“None of your concern.” Izaya pulled his jacket tighter around himself. “I’m fine.”

“God damn it, have you slept? At all?”

“Since when?”

“That’s not the right answer!” Finally there was enough feeling in him to make it to his feet, holding on tight to the tree for support. “ _ What did you do?” _

“This is none of your concern.”

“Like hell it is!” He stepped closer. “You’re  _ the flea.  _ You’ve been stabbed, shot, I watched you get strapped to a guillotine and  _ laugh.  _ If something’s freaking you out, what’s it going to to do to the rest of us?!”

“I’m working on it.” Izaya crossed his arms and in that moment Shizuo realized that, yeah, Izaya was like Swift as a child. He was a child. They were both still acting like children, playing hide and seek and tag in the middle of a forest to avoid talking about their problems. 

He would happily be eight to prevent that from happening. “I’m going home. I’d tell you to call me if you grew up but you  _ destroyed my phone.” _

“Don’t get a new one.”  _ And  _ there was a wallet slapping against his face. “Show that card to the warden, he’ll let the puppydog out.”

“Puppydog?”

“Starkweather.”

This was probably the most civil conversation the two of them have had in their entire life. “...Izaya, I am going to give you one chance to come clean about whatever you did. I’m not promising I won’t kill you, but I’ll promise we’ll deal with that first before I do.”  _ Because if you’re scared, I’m terrified. _

“I can handle myself just fine.” He ran a hand through his hair. Such a, a... _ pedestrian? Sane? Normal? _ Action that seeing Izaya do it made him want to hurl. “Wear long, thick sleeves. And no electronics.”

“Just  _ go,  _ Izaya. Just go.”

With that, Izaya turned heel, leaving Shizuo still half dazed and drugged in the middle of the forest. He managed to drag himself out, the card got Jason sent home as promised, and he was at home in bed within the hour. 

But not before he tossed his TV out the window. Not because Izaya told him to, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm glad I got to post it. The dialog didn't work out perfectly the way I planned, but I'm still proud of it. Emotional scenes have never been my forte so I'm glad this one actually turned out alright. Plus I never realize how much I _love_ Shizuo's Japanese voice actor until today.
> 
> So, today we learned Jason needs help, there's no beer in jail, and Shizuo's a good big brother after all. What's the dead body Jason's seen before? Who is Izaya so worried about? And what does all of this have to do with the virus? Find out next time on Durarara x2.5!! Kudo if you liked it, and comment what you think! I'd love to hear your theories. A lot more was revealed in this chapter than one might think at first glance :)


	26. Cupid

“Celty…I know you’re worried, but, don’t you think maybe you’re taking it just a little overboard? Just a little? Not that I’m questioning you of course, I would never, but, I don’t think we can get into our own home anymore.”

Head tipping to the side, looking up at her handiwork...alright, maybe she did take it a little far. The windows were completely bared, no light able to enter. The door had five new locks, a bar across the center, an d an electric zapper which would shock you if you put in the wrong code. Sighing, she typed, “ [ _ I don’t want him to get in. _ ]”

“I know that.” Shinra put her arm around her waist. “He won’t, I promise. And if he does, whatever he’s shooting won’t work on me. I couldn’t ever love anyone but you.” 

Her shoulders relaxed, leaning against his side. “ _ [Thank, Shinra, for putting up with this.]” _

“Don’t apologize! This just shows how much you love me.”

In her head, she laughed. Outwardly, all she could do was lightly punch his arm. Though going by his expression, maybe it wasn’t light enough. “[ _ Sorry! I’ll get some ice.]” _

“No need, I got it...uh, do you remember the code?”

“ _ [I thought you were writing it down?]” _

“Right. About that…”

“ _ [You didn’t write it down, did you?]” _

“Of course I did...n’t. I remember it. It’s, uh...your birthday!” 

“ _ [I don’t have a birthday.] _ ”

“Right, I knew that.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s, uh...this.” She watched him type in what she was sure was a random string of digits, and proceed to be shocked. “...I’ll call the locksmith.”

“[ _ Good boy.]”  _ Her phone beeped, Shinra punching another couple codes as she scanned over the message. Uh oh. Black mist ploomed around her, and she tossed on her helmet. “ _ [I forgot to pick up the spikes!]” _

“The spi-”

“ _ [Be home soon, love you, bye.]”  _ With that, she was racing down the stairs, hopping onto Shooter, about to press her foot down on the pedal, when she felt every nerve go cold. Shooter gave a hard hiss, black smoke pluming around them as she felt anger bubble up her throat.

He was back.

She felt it, goosebumps rising, when she spotted it, the flash of red in the corner of her vision. She spun Shooter, taking off on instinct. The cape fluttered behind the target as she bent forward on the bike. 

_ Munuð munu feigr _

She felt heat crackle at her fingertips, the world dimming to near black. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt something so, so...alive? It felt old, like she was coming home to something, as her scythe formed in her hand. 

She shot down the street, hearing a boom go off behind her as she did. 

Glass rained down as she shot down the street in a blur. Her vision faded until black and white, like an old movie reel, before propping into blinding color. But she wasn’t in Tokyo anymore, no, where, where was this place?

_ Think,  _ she commanded herself. The Ikebukuro skyscrapers had turned to stone, to open, grassy fields leading to a steep cliff, dropping to the raging waters bellow. But now she could see the figure clearly, cloaked in red and gold, golden dust fluttering in its wake. All she could think, all she knew, was that the figure must die.

“I have you cornered,” she screamed, as the figure stopped at the edge of the cliff. “Now.” She felt her sythe form in her hand, larger, sharper than it’d ever been. “I don’t know what you did, but whatever it was, you will  _ pay.” _

“...” Silence. Silence, followed by giggles, chilling giggling that she flt down to whatever bones she had. _Monster, monster, monster._ “I’m offended, you know. I knew you wouldn’t recognize me, but forgetting this place? Tragic, truly. Oh well. What should I expect from _Μαλακισμένη, να καείς στην κόλαση, παλιοπατσαβούρα της αγάπης-”_

She swung. Her arm was moving before her mind told it to, she swung for his throat, to gut it and never let it speak again, when she felt every muscle freeze, dropping her to her knees, scythe crumbing from her fingers.

“Oh, sorry, did I forget to tell you? I got some new arrows, love. Special little babies. Happens when you have a couple  _ thousand  _ years on your hands.”

She tried to scream, the breath caught in her throat, burning through her vocal chords.

“Oh? Cat got your tongue?” The figure knelt down, hood falling. Finally she could get a look at their- well, his, face. Blood red hair and molten gold eyes, tan skin and a smile that made her want to slit it open. “Recognize me, love?” Long, nimble fingers grabbed her by the chin. “Or was that in your pretty little head of yours?”

She tried to speak, but it just came out as a broken cough. So, instead, she spit in his face.

He reeled back, like he’d been burnt, as his eyes took on a glowing black color. “Listen here you little-” then, he stopped, took a deep breath and the black began to fade. “S o, Sanng- wait, you go by Celty now don’t you? Yeah, Celty. How’re you liking Japan? Warm there isn’t it. Then again anywhere must be warm to you.”

A harsh growl.

“Oh right, sorry, dear.” The man snapped, and Celty felt air fil her lungs. 

“ _ Who are you?” _

“You’ll figure it out.” He began to pace around and around her. “You still haven’t answered the question.”

“ _ Why are you doing this to me?”  _ She hissed in a voice low and not her own. It bellowed like thunder, she was confused and tired and angry and it felt  _ right. _

With a dramatic sigh, he knelt back in front of her. “Tsk, tsk, such an ungrateful child. Speaking of which, how’d you like my little gift?”

“Gift?”

 

“Oh, you know, that little boy with the glasses. What’s his name...ah, right.  _ Shinra.” _

_ Gift? Gift? What did a gift have to do with Shin...ra.  _

The Virus.

Love arrows.

This was Cupid. Cupid, that name just brought more and more anger, fingers twitching against her sides. 

“You’re starting to figure it out, aren’t you?” He tsked, going to his toes to pat her head. “Poor girl. I thought he was a nice fit, right? Helpless and desperate, that’s the kinds you go after.”

“ _ No. _ ”

“Yes.” He pulled back his hand. “Oh? Not happy to find the past twenty years of your life have been a complete lie?”

“He  _ loves me  _ and I  _ love  _ him.”

“Well, the second part’s true.”

“Don’t you dare touch Shinra!” Motion slammed back into her body, as she grabbed her scythe, pulling it to Eros’s neck. “You do not touch what’s mine.”

“He was never yours, darling, but if you want me to leave him hypnotized, please, I’d be happy to.”

Her hand quivered. “What do you want? From me, from him, what are you trying to do?!”

He merely smiled. “See you later,  _ love killer.” _

With that, the world snapped back. She was back in Ikebukuro, in the middle of the street, her scythe at a sobbing little girl’s neck.

\--

_ “Another body has been found in the Ikebukuro area, decapitated near the Raira boarding house on se-” _

_ “ _ Whoo! Russia’s mine, biatch!”

“Nice try, Neko.” Aoba grinned as he rolled a three. “You lose."

The boy in question groaned, throwing his arms in the air. “How do you always win this?”

“I keep telling you.” Aoba tuned out the radio droning the background, looking down at the Risk board, one of the few items they kept in the ‘headquarters’ (warehouse) they had meetings, quirking his head as he slid to invade the Ukraine. “Never keep your army in one place.” 

“You were on the other side of the world! How was I supposed to  _ predict  _ that!”

“Earth’s round, genius.” Gin tossed a bottle at Neko’s head, who whined, laying his head in his hands. 

“Wait, what?” Houjo popped his head out from the ‘kitchen’ they made from a gas burner and box of ice. “No it’s not.”

“...you are  _ not  _ arguing the world is flat, right?” Gin blinked up at him. “Please tell me you’re not arguing the world is flat.”

“If the world’s round, why don’t we slide when we walk? Things roll when the surface is slanted.”

Aoba rubbed the bridge of his nose. “It’s because-” Who was he kidding, nothing he said was going to convince them. “Never mind.

“Hey,” Mitsukuri tipped back in his chair. “Can someone shut off the radio already? I’m sick of hearing about the body.”

Aoba grinned as he took the spot. “You want it off so badly, do it yourself.”

With a glare, Mitsukuri got up, hand reaching for the dial-

“ _ Due to safety concerns, Raira academy has initiated a no tolerance skipping policy, and police will now be guarding all Raira properties at all-” _

“Wait.” Aoba stood, leaning towards the radio, hand up, as the other continued on the game and Mitsukuri shrugged, sitting down again.

“ _ Hours. Any student who does not have sufficient paperwork will be assumed guilty and be taken in for official police questioning.” _

That...wasn’t good. He grabbed his coat, throwing it on. “I’ve got to go.”

“What?” Gin rose a brow. 

Neko whooped. “I call his pieces!”

“No time." As the door clanked behind him, he dialed the number he needed, bile rising in his throat. " _Sir, we have a problem."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey...so...it's been a while...I don't have a good ecuse this time. It's just been a crazy and emotional couple months, coupled with this current chapter is one that essencially determines the rest of this story, even if it doesn't seem it on the surface, so I had to make sure it was perfect as I could get it. Giant shoutout to Monopsy's who helped me big time with translations here! It means the world to me.
> 
> On the bright side, chapters should come out much smoother now that the hardest one, probably in this whole story, is on paper.
> 
> Anyway, so, after a way too long absence:
> 
> Today we learned, the Virus has a face, Shinra and Celty's marriage is not quite what it seems, and the Blue Squares may have a much tougher time keeping a hold on the city. What exactly is Cupid up to? How will everyone cope under the supervision? Will the author ever get her act together? Find out! On the next installment of Durarara x2.5!
> 
> Kudo if you liked it, comment what you think :) Have a wonderful Day/Night, and see you soon!


	27. Period Preparatory to War

**Robin** : This is Bullshit Complete bullshit.

**Jungle** : Why is it that you only can type when you’re angry or horny?

**Robin** : Shut up Shut up I am not in the mood for you    
WTAF they can’t do this

**Jungle** : Generally to construct a full sentence one needs a subject more specific than ‘they’.

\-- **Taro Tanaka** has joined the Chat Room--

**Taro Tanaka** : Have you guys heard? I can’t believe the school is doing this

**Jungle** : Can someone please clarify.

**Robin** : It’s total bullshit   
We need to do a walk out or whatever    
Also I didn’t do my essay so that’d be great

**Jungle** : Is this about the new guards at the school?

**Taro Tanaka** : I believe so. I feel so bad for a lot of the students who have to leave early for personal reasons

**Robin** : who gives AF about 

**Jungle** : Of course you’re upset about this not for the breach of civil liberties but because you can no longer commit your delinquency within school hours.

**Robin** : I don’t know what that means but screw you

**Taro Tanaka** : How does Rosey feel about all this, Jungle?

**Jungle** : She’s getting ready to go right now. She says she’s not really worried, the guards will let her pass. Don’t know what she means by that and really don’t care.

**Robin** : Rosey isn’t gonna sleep with the guards   
right

**Jungle** : It’s Rosey, what do you think?

**Robin** : GIVE HER ROOM NUMBER RIGHT NOW

**Jungle** : Uh, yeah. No. Because I live here too.

**Taro Tanaka** : What are we going to do?

**Jungle** : Why do you care? And honestly this isn’t too much of a hassle for me, it’s remarkably easy to get past the guards if you have any semblance of skill.

**Taro Tanaka** : It just feels wrong that they’re allowed to do this, I guess…

**Jungle:** Welcome to reality. Everything is wrong.

~~O~~

Anri wasn’t allowed in the lab anymore, since she pulled the cord to let the air in. She still had to march her children down, but once they were there, drugs of the old-fashioned kind were used to keep them in their place, and Anri wasn’t allowed within twenty feet of the entrance. Instead, Anri was tasked with an ability that was ‘more suited to her skillset’. 

At first, Anri took that to mean a seduction of some kind, and told Namie so. But, no. Namie said to have more respect for herself, and women in general. But, she was close, Namie told her. She had the perfect job for someone so unable to be proactive.

Namely: Spying. 

And so, Anri was watching Fiyero nearly twenty four seven now, as well as deep dives into his history. Nothing of particular interest had come about. He was obviously going by a fake last name- ‘ _ Japanamey _ ’?  _ Really?-  _ not that it even mattered, when he was the first thing to come up with just the world ‘Fiyero’ alone. Born into a line of renowned lawyers, business owners, and generally rich-since-the-renaissance, the Deamorte family, he turned into what Anri could best call a  _ Celebutante.  _ Rich and famous in the vein of Paris Hilton, getting his first DUI at age fourteen, rising to real stardom with a sex tape Anri wished she hadn’t seen.

She’d been tailing him for a week straight, and was pretty amazed with just how brazen she could be and never get so much as a side-eye. She’d shimmied through crawl spaces, hidden under beds, latched onto a roof and hung from a fan. 

There wasn’t a moment in the day Fiyero was truly alone anymore. However, the more time she spent with him, the more certain she became that the day in the library had absolutely nothing to do with him.

“ _ Like, come on Lollipop, freckles are so ten years ago.” _

_ “What?!” _

_ “Just take them off.” _

_ “And how, exactly, does one take off freckles?” _

_ “Just wipe them off.” _

_ “I can’t just wipe off freckles, Fiyero. They’re attached to my face.” _

_ “Of course you can! Freckles aren’t real.” _

Hiding in their apartment air duct got her plenty of conversations like that, between Fiyero and his roommate ‘Lolipop’.

Fiyero was an idiot. And that’s coming from someone who, despite genuinely loving the boy, spent two years of her life with Masaomi. She didn't know how he survived this long, she truly didn’t. He thought price of a meal was the number of credit cards you leave behind- not that she’d ever actually  _ seen  _ him eat,- unironically thought the earth was flat, and believed every conspiracy theory known to man. Despite coming across smooth and composed in conversation, he sliced his finger trying to make a sandwich, thought if you put boiled water in the fridge you could take it and it would still make pasta, which he originally tried to cook in a bottle of vodka. Of which, he said, had zero calories because, it’s, ‘like, clear’. 

She was  _ this  _ close to telling Namie to call it all off. Obviously this lead was a no go. Fiyero just happened to be there when the arrow hit, or didn’t know the roses he carried held the virus, and Anri was going to go crazy if she had to watch one more ‘extended makeout’ during Fiyero’s days in the apartment. 

Generally, Anri could take a lot. She very easily retreated into the thrumming background noise. But since her job here was to pay attention, that sadly wasn’t an option.

She shifted her legs under her, biting back a sigh, reminding herself if she could hear them, they could hear her. Peeking through the slots of the air conditioning, she saw the two boys were on their respective beds. There was a literal line of duct tape down the middle, Fiyero’s end golds and reds, flashy mirrors and decadent wallpaper, the other stripped so bare when she first arrived she figured Fiyero simply hadn’t finished decorating yet. Eliot seemed to be packing up his things, tonight was Fiyero’s turn with the apartment, when there was a knock at the door. Then, for once, something noteworthy happened.

Fiyero got the door.

This had never happened before. Even when he was in the house alone, it would take him a good five minutes to remember no one was there to open it for him. If Eliot was in the room, it was his job to open. But no, this time it was Fiyero coming to the door. 

“ _Passion before_ _ …” _ Anri couldn’t hear much. Fiyero and the other who she couldn’t see, since they were on the other side of the door, but seemed to be a female, with a voice she  _ swore  _ she recognized. A moment later, Fiyero was back into the room, patting Eliot on the head.

“Good news, love. You get the apartment.”

“What?” Eliot blinked up, face etched into the all too familiar frown. 

“Heading out with a friend.” He swiped an oh-so-expensive jacket off the bed, red and gold, adjusting his necklace so the heart stayed atop. “Won’t be home until morning.”

“Fine, whatever. Don’t hurry back.” He sat up, glancing to his computer. “Hey, what’re you going to do about the guards? We’re not allowed out past eight.”

Fiyero giggled. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I have my ways.” With that, the door shut.

What?

She shimmied through the air ducts, trying to stay above Fiyero at all times. Their conversation was muffled, much too muffled to understand, and while she now knew for certain the one he was talking to was a woman, she couldn’t make any other features out about her, as she was in a red robe, golden lining on the sleeves and neck, hood pulled over her head.

Then they went to the door.

Anri figured that was where it was going to stop. Fiyero would attempt to pay off the guards, who, hopefully, had more self respect than that. When that failed, flirt with the forty-something year old man, and be rebuffed. Figuring it was safe, she slid out of the air ducts the same way she came in, landing just outside the building, in a shadow hidden by the awning of the door.

She didn’t get what she expected.

The woman and guard spoke in hushed whispers. She couldn’t make much out, especially while trying to ignore Saika’s incessant screaming in her head. But she did get this.

_ “No one’s come out, right?” _

_ “Of course not. A boy tried to earlier, we apprehended and reported him.” _

_ “Good. You’ll keep it that way, right?” _

_ “Of course.” _

_ “Don’t want any accidents now, do we.”  _

Anri stepped just a bit closer, trying to hear, but her foot hit a rock, the pebble skittering across the shockingly silent night. The group hushed, the woman’s shrowded face turning towards her, as she ducked back into the dark. 

“ _ You’re certain there’s no one around?” _

_ “The street is blocked off, someone would have spotted them.” _

_ “Fine.” _ The woman took Fiyero’s hand, who’s eyes had taken a shimmering gold. She seemed to be directing him, as he stayed quiet throughout the whole ordeal _. “Passion before god.” _

“ _ Passion before god.” _

What was Anri walking in to. 

~~O~~

Izaya Orihara did not fail.

It wasn’t allowed. Not to himself, not to anyone around him. He wasn’t like others, who could make mistakes, simply move on and try again. Every moment of his life was pass or fail, win or loss, and the first loss meant execution. Gods were perfect, after all. And perfection cannot hold up to cracks.

Izaya Orihara did not fail. But the ‘did’ in that statement was getting dangerously close to past tense.

There was an ear-splitting ringing in his ear. It wouldn’t go away, and he knew it wasn’t going to for a while. Even if he smashed every possible electronic in his room,  _ It  _ would simply emit the sound through the neighbors downstairs, street across, the lamps, some particles in the air for all he knew. Not to mention he couldn’t lose all his files. It wasn’t simply impractical, it would be signing his name on his own death warrant. 

He needed sleep. More than anything else he needed sleep. 

The day before, he tried a hotel. The noise followed. Then to another and another, to Shinra's home and a hired car, the ringing trailed him like a bloodhound.

Hands pressed to his ears, he closed his eyes, trying to drown out the grating screech. He’d always had great hearing, was one of his biggest advantages in a fight. However, sady, his ‘little Machine’ knew that was a way to hit him. Like a dog whistle, play a high enough sound, no one would notice it but him.

That sound had been going for days now. It needed to stop.

This was punishment, he was sure. He wasn’t quite sure what for, this time, but he knew it was __ Now, Izaya Orihara did not bow to anyone’s whims, but, he followed through on deals, so god dam- no. No he was not stooping to that level. He was not cursing. He was still in control.

“What do you want?” It took every ounce of self-control not to scream it. Just say it. He knew he was listening. He was always listening. “I’ve been doing everything, our agreement is  _ fine. _ ”

All he got was flickering lights and increased volume as a response. 

“I can’t  _ fix  _ the problem if I don’t know what the problem is!” Stop. Keep your composure. Why soundproof earplugs didn’t work were beyond him, but if this continued on a moment longer, he was going to have to sleep in the middle of the woods. 

He stood to grab his coat, hands shaking, when his computer began to blare. 

“ _ Call my man again and I’mma fuck you up, touch my man again and I’mma-” _

Was. He. Kidding. 

Izaya’s eye twitched, just slightly, looking at his laptop, where a Youtube video was now pulled up.  _ Crazy Possessive  _ by Kaci something he didn’t even know, his eyes were blurring over from exhaustion. There was no way. There wasn’t…

“I’m doing exactly what you’re asking for. I would like to remind you, again, that I was in that car, and was just as likely to receive injury as him. Everything we have done has been on your orders.” 

The music and noise grew louder, to the point he almost dropped to his knees, trying to cover his ears and block it. “Those pictures were obviously photoshopped, any moron could see- agh! Alright, alright, I’ll stop. I’ll stop. It won’t happen again.”

Like that, the music, pitch, everything, stopped. His hands fell, shaky, looking up at the computer screen.

Was he- no  _ It-  _ doing this to Shizuo too? He wouldn’t put it past  _ It  _ to do that. Not that he cared much for that beast, but, who knew how an animal would react; backed into a corner with mosquito noises pecking at his ears. “If I’m not able to interact like  _ that  _ with him, do, please enlighten me how I’m supposed to do this?”

Silence.

“It’s not my fault what  _ he  _ feels. I suggest if you’re that worried, you try moving closer to him. The more you push, the more he wants me.” He began to hear the noise rise again. “Give me something to work with, here. You hired me, let me do my job. Which I cannot sleep deprived.”

It stopped again. Mercy. All the lights going out at once wasn’t particularly necessary, but it got the message across. 

Hopefully, Shizuo heeded his. He doubted it, but he hoped.

~~O~~

 

\-- **Taro Tanaka** has joined the Chat Room--

**Taro Tanaka:** Is everyone alright? 

**Taro Tanaka** : Hello?

**Taro Tanaka** : Please?

**Taro Tanaka** : Please don’t tell me I’m alone.

**Taro Tanaka:**  I just got the call about the new murder.

**Taro Tanaka:** You all are okay, right?

**Taro Tanaka:** Please?

**Taro Tanaka:** Fine. 

**Taro Tanaka:** I’ll handle this myself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Back again. Sorry for posting so late, went to infinity wars today, so I was pretty busy. It was a ton of fun though! I recommend it highly.
> 
> Anyway, so! Today we learned Jason is not handling the news well, Fiyero has more going on than may first appear, Mikado is reaching his breaking point, and Izaya's not too far behind him. What exactly is Fiyero hiding? What will Mikado do? And who is this mysterious 'he' Izaya's been getting a little close to? Find out, in the next installment, of, Durararax2.5! 
> 
> Also, fun fact, next chapter is going to be a musical! And because I'm actually twelve inside, and this has been a massive dream, I've actually been trying to record the music for it. It was hard, then I was just chilling in the shower singing, and fell in love with a random melody and recorded it, and, ta da. So, for those interested, here's a sneak peek into the next chapter :) Keep in mind, this is in no way the finished product of the song. My friend is going to help with some of the vocals, there will be background music, the background of the video will not be my bathroom sink, and not recorded on my IPhone. 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O0o_JcEhak0


	28. Eve

The room was some drug-hazed dream of a Jazz nightclub and electro-wave, not that she could see much beside vague silhouette of hourglass hips and broad shoulders. It was obnoxiously loud and silent all at once, the world chopping in and out of motion to the beat of the music, the flashes of red and gold hued lights on the mirrored floor and ceiling. 

She was small here. Small, alone, and clearly far overhead. 

It wasn’t too hard, all Anri had to do to get in was trail Fiyero and the woman from before for a couple blocks, then call upon one of her children to find her a flower. A simple prick and twist and the rose was hers, which she was careful to hold at a safe distance, using her jacket to avoid pricking her finger on the shimmering stem. 

That was the price of admission into the Golden Apple bar apparently. Considering the allure of it all, she wouldn't be surprised if she left what little human soul she had left at the door with it. 

The music was live, she couldn’t quite see the stage through the haze of smoke and bodies, except the occasional flash of dress. Deep Jazz vocals with electronic beats, rhythm thick and full that spread with her blood and clouded her eyes

Or maybe that was the rose talking.

Her steps were slow, languid, as she dragged herself deeper into the fray. People with oil-slicked skin bumped against her side, spinning her in some pattern she didn’t have the ability to comprehend at the moment. 

The most disturbing part, though, was Saika being dead. Silent. 

Finally she managed to push her way through the dance floor, trying to suck in as little as the shimmering gold mist as possible, every breath sinking her further and further down to a part of her she didn’t know existed and didn’t want to find out more about. 

There, was Fiyero Deamorte, the most beautiful girl she’d ever seen in his lap, their mouths together, his hand on her cheek, eyes shut, before pulling away, a thin strand of smoke bridging the now open gap.

The section they were in was closed off to the rest of the...club? That was probably the best analogy for it, a club, and these were the VIP seats.

She must have been obvious in her staring though, because Fiyero’s eyes met hers, and she felt a heat flash through her burning hotter than the underworld, as he made slowly to his feet like a flicker of flame, thin red crop-top and thin golden golden linking from his wrists to a thick gold collar tight around his thin throat. Standing above her on the elevated platform, shoulders relaxed and postured like a marble prince, he seemed almost ancient there. Ancient and immortal. 

Almost like a god.

“So, you managed to make it to the party after all.” He bent down, a grin all white and aching confidence. “I was almost worried we’d lose you out there.”

Oh.

“Know this place is a little intimidating at first, but it’s home.” With a small head tilt to the woman she assumed stood guard over the raised section, Fiyero reached down a hand. “Come on up, you belong with us.”

Her heart clattered in her chest as his fingers laced with hers. Went still when her feet touched plush downy red floors. 

The smoke was a little clearer up here, giving an overhead view of the moving mass below. The crowd moved as one, even if every individual made their own action, a music video set on slow motion. 

Her hands still in his, she was gently led back, and back, to the series of couches and chairs, a small bar to their left and a bed to their right she didn’t want to think about the purpose of. About twenty people were strewn about up here, all model perfect, posed as if waiting for their cover shot. 

Finally letting go, Fiyero sat on the knee of a tall, muscled man, tall enough his head was completely obscured in the smoke, still giving her that all-knowing grin. “So, how do you like it here?”

Her voice was caught in her throat. 

“Fair, of course, people are always a little intimidated when we first bring them here.” He made a sweeping gesture. “But they always chose to stay in the end.”

She had a feeling, for most, very little choice was involved. 

With a snap, the woman from before dragged a chair in front of Fiyero and the tall Californian man. “Why don’t you take a seat.”

She sat.

“I know a lot about you Anri,” his hand reached across, dancing across the hollow of her throat, nail tipping her head up to look him in the eyes.”Maybe more than you know about yourself.” With that, he pulled back, leaning in his head against the broad chest “And I like what I know.”

_ Saika, please,  _ she stayed stock still,  _ if you’re there, please, say something.  _

“Now, I know what you’re thinking. What is this place? How did I know you were following me? Most of all though-” that grin turned from Barbie Doll to Barbed Wire- “I know we’re after the same thing.”

Her hands were shaking, eyes wanting to dart away but trapped on his. “W-what do I want?”

“Love, beauty, sacrifice.” Reaching out his hand, he was given a glass of what Anri assumed was blood red wine, taking a long sip, letting the quiet sit, nothing but the background thumps between them. “A new religion, control over the powers that be, all the usual. But mostly, we both want the Death of a God.”

She took the offered glass, seeing the blood drain from her flesh in the reflection. 

“Why?” She brought the wine glass close, swirling the red with a golden sheen. “Why tell me this, why am I here?”

“Maybe it’s nice to have someone who understands what I am. What people like  _ us  _ are. What we have to do.”

She stayed quiet.

“Alright, maybe there’s a  _ little  _ self-interest to it.” He giggled, clasping his hands together, laced delicately in his lap. “I want us to become partners.”

The glass shattered on the floor, pooling at her back like a gunshot wound.

Fiyero gave a long, harrowed breath, standing up and leaning over her again, their faces inches apart. “What’s the matter, love? Nervous. Everyone is their first time. Happens with people first coming to terms with their passions.”

Partner. Equal. Control. Status. Love.

Love. 

_ Passion.  _

Love. 

_ Passion.  _

The feeling of heat and heartbeat, the swell she’d chased her entire life, and hadn’t felt, not in stark contrasting color, until the rose was pushed into her hands. 

“You’re starting to understand it aren’t you, love.” He placed a hand on her cheek. “What we do here.”

Not at all. She had a feeling that was part of the point. 

As he started to rise, she felt herself too, til both of them were standing. “Come back next Friday, you don’t need the rose this time, they’ll let you in. They’ll know you. We all come to know each other here.” His thumb gently stroked her cheekbone. “We all come to love each other. I promise you’ll feel the same if you give us a chance.”

Her lips moved before her mind. “Okay.”

“Good girl.” She felt lips slowly grace her cheek, as something was pushed into her hand. “This, is for you, my dear.” 

In her hand, was a fresh, golden, apple.

As she was led away, the crowd parting before her, she looked down to the fruit in her hand. 

Outside, she took her first bite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse, I just suck at updating. I am so sorry guys, I know I keep promising to be more active, life has just been kicking my butt with change. I lost my best friend of 4 years, my dog, just, not the best couple months. But I'm back, at least for now, doing what makes me happy :) Thank you to everyone who's bothering with this trainwreck.
> 
> So, today we learned Fiyero's involved in something secret, Anri has a touch for the dark side, and something truly awe-inspiring is going on in the Golden Apple Bar. What exactly is this 'group' he speaks of, and what's their plan? Find out next time, on Durararax2.5!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Re! Wind!!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13374615) by [TokoKoko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TokoKoko/pseuds/TokoKoko)




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